


How to Fight a Ghost

by extra_Mt



Series: the Ghost of the Memory [2]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Smut in chapter 6 y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-12-25 07:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18256298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extra_Mt/pseuds/extra_Mt
Summary: Part 2:After their goodbye a few years ago, Misty is reunited with her first love. But her heart has hardened, and Cordelia has now a different surname.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to The Ghost of the Memory :))

_"_ _Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you'll find an edge to cut you."_

_―_ _**Mark Lawrence, Prince of Thorns** _

Misty Day was indifferent. Detached, aloof, stolid, whatever you want to call it. It wasn't necessarily that she hated people. She just didn't have any opinions on them. Nothing they did or said interested her, and most of the time, spending her time alone was much more entertaining than talking to another human being.

So naturally, as she stared at the soaring clouds in the powder blue sky, her only wish at the moment was to go home. At the same time, though, she knew she needed to stay there if she wanted money. No job was easy, especially for the wild blonde, who found every bit of human interaction burdensome and draining.

At least, the girl thought, her job didn't necessarily require friendliness. To be a bartender, knowledge about alcohol was the number one priority. Sociability, not so important in Misty's opinion. Her boss might oppose to this attitude, but if he ever did, the girl simply had to find another job. Not a big deal. Every job was the same.

The agate eyes that bubbled in indigo and silver moved to the mass of people in front of her. Most of the men were dressed in plain, uncreative suits. The women, on the other hand, showed off their vibrant dresses and exquisite jewels. From Gucci to Channel to a brand that the feral-haired girl couldn't even identify. In the two years of serving alcohol at parties, Misty mused, this one seemed way more extravagant than regular parties.

Her boss had said it was a wedding party. Whose wedding, he didn't say, as such information wasn't of necessity.

"It's hell of a party," she mumbled to her co-worker.

Kyle, with golden hair neatly combed, shrugged at her words. "Yup, as it should be. The groom is Hank Foxx." Contrary to his nonchalant gesture, his charcoal eyes shone in what seemed like thrill.

"Who?"

Her question earned a strange look from the aspiring engineer from Louisiana. A look that said 'are you for real?' The girl didn't care, though, since she was so used to people thinking she had been living under a rock.

"He's the president of Delphi Trust, one of the biggest companies in the world," the blond boy replied. "His father is the CEO."

The name of the groom had already been tossed into oblivion by the girl. Whoever it was, though, he must be a famous, and quite powerful man to have a wedding like this. After all, only those who are exceptionally wealthy and pretentious would have their weddings on the roof of a five star hotel in the center of NYC.

Although the wild blonde had never fancied a thought of ever getting married to someone, she couldn't help wondering how it was like to be celebrated by so many people.

But what about the bride? Was she famous, too? Harmless curiosity took over her mind as she made a drink for a guy who, without a doubt, too hammered to speak a human language. Misty hated people who couldn't handle their alcohol, and she had seen so many of them. It was ugly, irresponsible, and so idiotic. Even from the other side of the counter, the wild blonde could smell the alcohol.

His droopy eyes travelled up and down, studying her features, lingering on her jacket-covered chest, raising his untamed brow. As nasty as he was, Misty knew to stay professional. Pouring the martini into a chilled glass, she mentally stabbed his balls with an ice pick and squeezed lemon juices into the punctured wounds.

"Here come the newlyweds!" someone screamed in the crowd.

The drunk sicko, much to the girl's discontent, grabbed the unfinished martini and staggered back to the mass of people.

"Fucker," Misty cursed under her breath, wiping the spilled gin off the counter.

The entrance was blocked from her view, but the cheers and screams of the crowd made the couple's arrival known to the bartender.

The groom was a tall guy, a beard covering the lower half of his face. When Kyle'd said he was the CEO of a huge company, the girl imagined him to be old, greasy, fat, and perhaps bald. In reality, though, he was none of them. His white teeth shone in the sunlight as he smiled at the bride, whom Misty couldn't see.

Behind the people, the bride's head was barely visible. Still, the silky blonde hair, which made a perfect contrast to the groom's raven-like hair, was visible between the heads of the people. The blue eyes were trained on the head of blonde. A bizarre feeling was beginning to take up residence inside her chest. It was such an inexplicable feeling, different from banter, not quite the same as curiosity.

It simply seemed like following the nameless, faceless bride was as natural as a sunflower chasing the sun. The woman reminded Misty of something, a thing from the past. _What is it?_ she tilted her head.

The merry music stopped, and comfortable breeze descended to the roof. It played with the hem of the bride's white dress. It twirled in the wind as freely as the corsage of a blue rose in her hair.

_It's a ghost._ The enigmatic magnificence was almost hypnotizing to the bartender. _A surrealistically beautiful ghost._

Then the ghost bride, oblivious to the wild blonde at the bar, turned her head around. The girl's breaths halted. The heart that had hardened over the years suddenly started to weep. In the state of dazed awe, Misty Day deeply wished this was a dream, or a hallucination. But it wasn't, and she was looking at the ghost from her past. Cordelia Goode, her blue rose, in white.

* * *

 

The bride was truly beautiful. Her hair was rays of sunshine, her cheeks sweet rose petals, her eyes orbs of sweet molasses. The blue rose in her hair was just a bit darker than the shade of the sky, and her skin was so pale in the sun that the lines between her and the dress were barely visible.

A ghost or an angel. There didn't seem to be, at least to the wild blonde, such a significant difference between those two imaginary creatures.

Misty had to, though with little mind power, remind herself to breathe every time she found her eyes following the older blonde. Indeed, her beauty was extraordinary. Yet, concluding from the girl's sneaky observation over the past half an hour, she didn't look so happy. Every ten seconds or so, her neat brows would knit together as her jaw tightened. Definitely not the look of a bride at her wedding party.

There was no wonder, though, because nothing seemed to be going the way Cordelia wanted. Back in the room before the party, Hank'd told her their honeymoon trip had been cancelled for whatever the reason. The stylist had failed to find the hair corsage Cordelia wanted, and instead given her the blue rose. It was just the _right_ shade of blue, and she hated wearing it. And now Fiona, who had showed up already high, was starting to make a scene in front of everyone. Not just her guests, but Hank's as well. His father didn't appear to be a fan of his new daughter-in-law, and Cordelia couldn't afford to make another bad impression.

"No, Fiona, we've talked about this," the bride pleaded.

"Well, it doesn't mean I agreed with you." The woman, who could easily play a devil in a movie, puffed a cigarette. "Of all men you could marry, you chose that one. That man is not who he claims to be."

Her black dress and stilettoes were as dark as her heart. The attire was the visible sign of her utter disproval towards her daughter's marriage. She had downright told Cordelia they were the clothes for funerals.

The woman in white curled her lip. "Really? And how would you know that?"

"My instincts are more accurate than the little brain of yours," the mother snickered as she strolled towards the bar. "And I have more experience. Unlike you, I've been with many men in my life. Trust me, he is the kind of man who will cheat on you as soon as he puts a ring on your finger." In her voice was venom and repulsion as she chinned at the groom across the venue. Then she, fanning Cordelia's exasperation, proceeded to order her fifth Margarita for the afternoon.

"Mother, please, you don't need any more drinks."

Yet Cordelia's poignant plea was none of Fiona's concern. The only important things in her selfishly sumptuous life were sex, money, eternal beauty, and drugs.

Cordelia, with teeth sinking into her bottom lip, decided this was the worst day of her life. Or perhaps, the second worst. Still, it didn't change the fact that she was already looking at the very bottom of the pit of despair when her mother had shown up unannounced. The wedding had been kept a secret from Fiona for obvious reasons. It must have been compromised by some of her relatives, Cordelia frowned. It couldn't go any lower from there.

Sighing in defeat, the fed-up bride began to walk away from the human version of sin. She threw a last grudging glare at Fiona, and glanced apologetically at the poor bartender who had to witness the foulness.

The blue and the brown met. The brown, staring into the same hues of the hair corsage, froze.

* * *

 

As more time passed, the party became merrier and, in Misty's opinion, messier and uglier. It was so typical of a party that involved alcohol, though, for the crowd to slowly lose control. In usual cases, this was where the wild blonde would have to fight the urge to punch a drunkard or two in the face. But this time, her attention was still occupied by a single person.

Their eyes had met. There was no doubting that. And guessing from Cordelia's reaction, she had recognized the wild blonde. But the reunion couldn't be more different from how Misty had seen in her countless dreams. It was quiet, and almost emotionless. No hugs, no tears of joy, no smiles, not even a 'hi'. Just like two strangers staring at each other. Recovering from her paralysis, the older woman had walked away, and since then, she'd been staying away from the bar.

Although it'd be a lie to say this didn't hurt, Misty could understand how the other must be feeling. It was her wedding day, a day that's supposed to be the happiest of any bride's life. An unforeseen encounter with an ex-lover on the very day was just plain awkward. Of course, technically speaking, they were never lovers. All they did was to share a small part of their lives together in a room hidden from the outside world, believing their unspoken affection could be heard in the melody of piano. There was nothing more, nothing substantial.

It occurred to Misty that, maybe, the former teacher had already gotten over their dream-like days. If so, well, the wild blonde didn't have any problem with that. People come and go. Scars eventually fade away. And memories, no matter how impossible it seems at the time, lose their colors as time passes. No problem. The girl knew the reality like the back of her hand.

In the middle of her internal monologue, another person came to the bar. Unlike most of the guests there, the brunette girl's steps were steady and light. The blue eyes immediately recognized the gentle, and slightly miserable smile of Zoe, her old schoolmate.

"I got it," Kyle told the wild blonde, before wearing his innocent smile. "Hi. What can I get you?"

The brunette chuckled out of nervousness, absolutely dazzled by the brightness of the barman's grin. Yet she was still courageous enough to engage in their conversation as avidly as the boy. Her walnut eyes, which rarely left the ones of Kyle's, shifted to the other bartender for a split second. The frizzy blonde hair triggered something in her distant memory, and Zoe gnawed at the taller girl.

The curious gaze led Misty to turn her face and offer her a polite mien, which soon turned into a gentle smile when her old schoolmate's jaw dropped at the coincidental reunion.

Meanwhile, Cordelia, on the other side of the venue, had been hiding from her own groom. Hank was so eager to get her and his grandfather to meet. The rumor had it that Hubert Renard, the founder of Delphi Trust, was a notoriously scathing man. The bride had no idea what he looked like, but she figured the man, who was complaining about the food quite loudly, must be him. Hank worshipped him, as a business man, as a man. It couldn't have been a bigger burden on Cordelia's already pessimistic heart.

_This is exactly why I didn't want to have a big party_ , she groaned. It was in the middle of her internal grumbling that Zoe came into view.

"Oh my god. You would not believe this." The brunette looked like she had seen a ghost. "See that girl at the bar? Do you recognize her?" Zoe pointed at the younger blonde, the other hand firmly on the bride's forearm.

"Um..." the older woman swallowed.

No more words rose from her throat as it dawned on her that nobody, absolutely nobody else, knew about the story between the two. Their history, the days that had seemed more important than the world itself at the time. The realization slapped her hard on the cheek.

Blind to the invisible struggles of the other, Zoe exclaimed: "It's Misty. Misty Day from high school!"

After Cordelia had managed to give her a small nod, together they shifted their focus to the wild blonde. When the older woman realized she was having trouble tearing her eyes off the younger blonde, it was too late. All their memories and suppressed emotions inundated her like a tsunami. She found herself suddenly drowning in nostalgia. Her Misty. It had been long since their bittersweet goodbye, since their last day of shared smiles and tears.

Cordelia watched her almost-lover. The way those lithe limbs moved like a willow tree branches, the way her strand of her wild blonde fell into her face and twirled in the wind. She could almost hear the sound of piano, their melody, in sync with the way the girl batted her long eyelashes.

The blue gaze rose and looked her right in the eye. Despite the distance between them, the older woman easily could see the hues of those eyes. They smoldered, pierced, and drenched every inch of her skin and soul. Then, Cordelia realized her heart was racing. Faster and stronger than when Hank put a ring on her finger.

She looked away.  
  


* * *

 

A loud ding, accompanied by heavy buzzes, briefly interrupted the silence in the apartment of Misty. It was almost past the midnight. Not the time of day to expect a text message from someone, especially for the girl, who had no friends to talk to via text. It was quite understandable that the loud noise had startled the girl off the chair in the midst of her studying.

In search of her phone, Misty rummaged among the piles of books and papers on the table, careful not to knock over her mug of tea.

**_Hi, this is Cordelia._ **

The message on the bright screen was simple and brief, yet so cryptic to the wild blonde. She blinked several times, as though the action could somehow give her clues to solve the mystery. What could the woman possibly want now? It had been more than two weeks since the wedding party. And the girl couldn't help but wonder why the older woman had decided to text her at the dead of night all of a sudden.

_how did you get this number?_

The moment the phone was put down on the table, it buzzed.

**_I asked Zoe to ask your co-worker Kyle. I think that's his name._ **

"Freaking Kyle," the younger blonde murmured into the silence. That pretty boy needs some lectures about the importance of personal information for sure, she took a mental note.

_what do you want?_

Misty knew this sounded quite dry and trenchant, but it was an intentional choice. Her heart was telling her to be careful. Careful not to easily let Cordelia in, careful not to have her heart break into pieces again. So she decided to turn a blind eye on the very heart, which was pounding in desperate expectation as her eyes stared at the dots in a balloon on the screen.

Across the town, Cordelia chewed on her bottom lip while having an internal war. She kept typing in and deleting the words repeatedly, looking for the perfect words, but in vain.

About two weeks prior, at the end of the party, the then-bride had left without bidding Misty a proper farewell. It had seemed to be the right choice at the time, because there was Hank, and so many people. It was too big a risk to take, and their secret was too precious for anyone else's eyes.

Then, the next fourteen days were a series of debates with herself. A myriad of Should I?'s and No's. With the help of alcohol, she'd finally gathered up courage to take action tonight. But three shots of tequila turned out to be just not quite enough; as the conversation went on, Cordelia was quickly sobering up.

The antagonizing balloon of speech on Misty's screen had disappeared about ten minutes ago. She figured the other woman had fallen asleep, or worse, had decided to pretend the conversation never happened. It was almost driving her nuts, though the rational, stubborn part of her insisted it was no problem.

When the very anticipated ringtone echoed in the room after another five minutes, the girl grabbed her phone at the speed of light.

**_Would you like to have a coffee with me_**?


	2. Chapter 2

 

_"_ _There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar."_

_―_ **_Chuck Palahniuk, Choke_ **

The wild blonde sat alone in a coffee shop when the clock hit 2 p.m. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, not too hot or cold, such a perfect weather to stay in bed. But instead of snacking and Netflix, she was waiting for Cordelia's arrival. Her chai latte was already half empty, with ripples on the foamy surface as she tapped her foot under the table restlessly.

Cordelia was late. She was late despite being the one who'd suggested their meeting. And Misty was super early despite living just two blocks away.

She checked her wrist watch for the hundredth time. It read 2:02. An exasperated sigh escaped her lightly colored lips. How could it be only two minutes, when it felt like she'd been sitting there for more than two weeks? If that was what waiting does to people's perception of time, the wild blonde certainly could understand why the notion of eternity had driven many people insane for centuries.

Taking another sip, her indigo agate eyes looked outside the window. Within a second, she spotted Cordelia at the crosswalk. Even in the sea of people, the older woman stood shining like the moon amongst little stars, elegant like a Cathedral Window lily in a field of dandelions.

Her slim figure was cradled in a long-sleeve shirt, orange and coral flowers printed on it in abundance. The place where her heart would be was the same floral tie, hanging loosely and creating an upside-down triangle of the pearly skin there. And the end of the long tie was where her pencil skirt hugged her middle. The skirt was as black as an abyss, hiding most of her legs, but short enough to allow others to appreciate her coral heels.

If Cordelia in white was an angel, today's outfit made her a goddess. The younger blonde knew she wasn't playing favorites; everyone who passed by would turn around to have a better look at the woman.

The older blonde pushed the glass door open and walked into the coffee shop. The walnut eyes examined the hippiesque place. The warm glow of decorative lights and the incoming sunlight fused in the mid-air. Great tapestries adorned the walls, which were in a light shade of brown, as if the smell of coffee was ingrained in every atom of them.

By the window, the girl sat alone. The corners of Cordelia's lips turned upward so effortlessly as their gazes met, all the nervousness blown away by the force of the butterflies in her stomach.

After getting herself a cappuccino, the former teacher made her way to the table Misty sat, each of her steps gaining confidence gradually.

"You are late." With an impish look, the wild blonde sat back in her seat.

"I know, I'm sorry," the woman huffed.

It'd annoyed her greatly that she couldn't make it on time, but Misty's lopsided smile was the opposite of what she'd expected. The text exchange from the other day had given her an impression that maybe the girl wasn't so eager about their reunion.

But, Cordelia thought, it might have been merely the result of her insecurity. "Just, couldn't decide my outfit."

"You look very nice."

Cordelia felt heat creep up her neck. "Thank you. So do you."

They fell into silence, with the sound of drums in the background music. It was their language, to sit in tranquility, to listen to each other's breathing. But one forgets how to speak a language after being away from it for a long time, even if it's their first language. The air was stuck in their throats, words disappearing into nothingness.

The situation might be more complicated for Misty. Not only did she forget their language, she wasn't sure if she truly desired to relearn it. Being the victim of her own heart had been, throughout her life, one of the headache-inducing problems. She brought her cup to her lips, only to find out it was empty.

"So, how's life?" the older woman asked in her innocuous tone.

The taller blonde nonchalantly shrugged in response. "Nothing eventful. I'm still a student. As broken as ever." Soft laughs fell out of her mouth, and the sound made the other chuckle as well. "and...yeah, that's it. I live a pretty boring life."

"What do you study?"

"Medicine."

The dark eyes of Cordelia widened. "Oh, wow. That's amazing." She offered a smile, a bit drowning in nostalgia. "I always knew you were a smart girl."

"How about yourself? How's your marriage?"

At the forthright question, Cordelia was suddenly reminded of the ring on her finger. Her maroon eyes rose from the cup in her grip. She stared into the pair of ocean with a pounding heart.

 _Funny_ , Cordelia thought. The girl had been deliberately and so overtly avoiding eye contact. But now that she brought up the topic of the older blonde's marriage, the eyes showed no sign of faltering.

"We are doing ok," Cordelia said it in a determinedly steady voice.

"Ok? Is that it?" Misty probed. "You're newlyweds. Shouldn't you be, I don't know, in the honeymoon phase and all that?"

"I don't really...feel like talking about my marriage."

The younger blonde paused at it, before shrugging her shoulders. "Ok." It was a brief, nonchalant response. Yet it contained so many unspoken questions behind it.

Marriage was one of the many things she didn't really comprehend. Even then, it was undeniably clear something was up with the older woman. And her heart craved to know whether that _something_ involved herself. To the contrary, her brain was forcing her eyes to keep gazing at the diamond ring on the other's finger.

So, Misty settled on a harmless question instead, like a regular person would do. "How's Zoey?"

They exchanged more words. About the girl's school, about this town and how it was different from the woman's hometown, about the coffee shop they were in. They talked about anything they could think of, but Cordelia's marriage.

To the shorter woman's heartache, the blue kept away from the brown most of the time. Cordelia didn't ask why. Instead, she would stare at the girl's face with insistence, to memorize the shadows of her long eyelashes on her cheeks, to burn the image of her ethereal golden curls behind her eyelids.

When the sky got dark and artificial lights replaced the sun, it was Misty who suggested to call it a day. The older blonde, on the other hand, couldn't hide her disappointment. Two hours seemed such an outrageously short period of time, especially when they had five years of blank to fill. Swallowing back needy pleas, she followed the taller girl out of the place.

Among the busy crowd in the street, the chocolate brown eyes examined the profile of Misty. The pieces of streetlights twirled like iridescent bubbles in the blue-grey eyes.

"Well...it was nice seeing you again," the shorter woman said.

Their gazes locked momentarily, and the wild blonde nodded her head. "You too. It was very nice."

Although what Cordelia received was a tight-lipped smile, it was undoubtedly better than the poker face she'd been given back in the café. In the moment of bravery, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around the girl's neck. The lithe body tensed, Cordelia felt, but soon the strong arms, still with timidity, rested on her back.

After a second or two, the wild blonde awkwardly mumbled: "Ok, I should get going, then."

The moment their bodies separated, Cordelia felt an unbearable urge to go right back into Misty's arms. The embrace was ephemeral, too short, in fact, if anyone asked the woman. It hurt like having one of her limbs ripped apart.

"Um, do you have a ride home? I can give you a ride."

The golden curls bounced as the girl shook her head, the long legs already starting to walk away. "Nah, I live nearby. Thanks."

With a sunken heart, Cordelia bit her bottom lip and nodded. Like a helpless child, all she could do was to stay quite while watching the slender silhouette of the girl engulfed in the ocean of the masses.

Every bit of her wished the other would turn around, even for a split second. She kept wishing and wishing, and cursed herself for letting the girl go, for the second time in her life.  
  
  
  


Another week had passed since then. It was just a week, seven days out of 365. Yet, it felt like one of the longest eternities Cordelia had ever had to endure. Even though texting Misty didn't seem to be a good option, it was the only thing she could think about.

Closing her eyes, she tried to draw the wild blonde in her mind. Those wild curls just long enough to reach her chest, her fingers adorned with rings, her earthly scent, her lips as bright as cherry blossoms...she remembered them all.

Up until that fateful wedding day, their story had been kept safe in the treasure box of her heart, the hidden part of her that nobody could touch or see. On countless nights, when things seemed dark and hopeless, Cordelia would close her watery eyes.

Her salvation was always, always the heavenly creature that was Misty Day. And what a cruel reality it was, because the girl she'd seen today was nothing like the girl in her memory. The wild blonde curls were reaching her waist, her lips seemed firmer and darker.

Her eyes, most of all, didn't have the dark color of blue. They were a light grey, almost appearing to be white in the sun. If that was the real, living Misty, then who was the girl Cordelia had been running to all these years? They were strangers who shared the same memory. And that just wouldn't do.

As the fifth glass of wine was emptied, the married woman found herself holding her smartphone.

_**Hi.** _

_whats up_

Her heart drummed hard in her ears, and she told herself it was the wine. Despite her swimming mind, her thumbs moved across the screen with perfect accuracy.

_**Nothing. Just wondering what you are up to.** _

_studying in the library_

_you?_

_**I'm baking cake. I have so much time in my hands. I honestly don't know how housewives spend time.** _

There was no reply to that for at least five minutes. Cordelia began to panic, going through the texts to see if she'd said something offensive. The conversation shouldn't end here, no. She didn't know how it should've gone, but this wasn't what she'd expected. Yet, sending another text in this situation would only make her seem desperate. The last thing she wanted was to scare Misty away.

Then an electric chime resonated in her drunken ears.

_you can do anything. youre not a regular housewife. your husband got money, remember?_

Cordelia bit her bottom lip. The mention of Hank, who was currently in another country for god-knows-what, caused a dull ache inside her chest. Not because of guilt, but because of the fact that the younger woman seemed to be so hung up on her marriage. Cordelia didn't know how to interpret that.

One thing was clear, though; she wasn't and never would be ready to let the girl go.

_**You're right.** _

She typed in, before deciding to send another one in.

_**What are your plans tonight?** _   
  
  
  


It was five minutes ago that the older woman had texted "I'm here." Misty looked herself in the mirror for the last time. Patting her wild mane, her eyes studied the green dress that embraced her body.

When Cordelia had suggested they have dinner, the girl was reluctant. Her heart and brain started another war, and ambivalent feelings flooded her system. It was a drug, that woman and her brown eyes. Every time the wild blonde set her eyes on her, the butterflies in her stomach leaped and wailed.

But there was a ring on her finger. To spend time with the woman meant having to tolerate the pleasant agony. To desire her meant taking the road to heartbreak.

So, Misty had chosen to decline the offer at first. She didn't own any dress to wear to a fancy restaurant. But the pathetic excuse had been answered with "I'll let you borrow mine."

Eventually she'd let her heart persuade her that it was only a friendly dinner, not a date. Then a few hours later, she'd received a package from Cordelia. It had the dress, a black purse to go with it, and a message card that said 'I can't wait to see you in this tonight.'

The dress fit her perfectly, too perfectly in fact. The wild blonde couldn't help but wonder if this truly belonged to Cordelia. It wasn't entirely impossible that the woman had bought it for her, for this night.

 _But why would she do that?_ Misty laughed at herself for the silly thought.

In front of the apartment, Cordelia patiently waited for the other in the backseat of her Mercedes. Soft classic music floated out of the speakers as she checked her phone again. When she looked up, her eyes caught the girl walking out of the building.

It was truly a remarkable sight. The emerald color accentuated the whiteness of her skin. The godly bright locks fell into the dress like sunlight filtering through trees. Cordelia's brown eyes dilated at the long legs; the tight design enabled the supple muscles to be seen under the knee-length dress. Behind the tint window, the older blonde watched the girl's expression. It was perplexed and nervous at first, then changed to surprised when the chauffer opened the door for her.

Ducking her head, Misty saw the older blonde in the seat.

"Sorry for the wait," she said while getting into the car.

"Not a problem." The brown-eyed woman offered a warm smile. Fighting the urge to run her hands all over the smooth skin, her fingers fidgeted with her purse. "You look very gorgeous tonight."

The compliment drew blood to Misty's cheeks. "Thanks," she muttered, before gesturing at her dress. "and, ah, thanks for this."

"I knew the green would look good on you."  
  
  
  


The restaurant was extravagant, like the one you see in movies. They had yet to enter, but Misty could see this was no place for her. A sense of insecurity was overwhelming as she followed Cordelia into the place.

"Good evening," the waitress in a black dress greeted them. Her smile was bright for sure, but it appeared machine-like in the girl's eyes.

The older blonde parroted her, before saying; "I have a reservation under Goode."

"Miss. Goode, we've been expecting you. This way, please."

They weaved their way through the spacious place. The waitress led them to the table right in front of the band, even the younger blonde could tell it was hell of a good spot. Another waitress came and introduced herself, proceeding to speak about today's special.

( _"...Potato frosted meat loaf or Shepard's pie with....soups are...onion or tomato...Pinot Noir..."_ )

None of the words was registered to Misty's brain. All that occupied her thoughts was how the shorter woman seemed to be so at ease. It was the kind of composure that could be mastered only through experience. It was the testament to how much the woman was used to coming to such lavish places.

"I'll have the pie then," Cordelia smiled at the waitress. "and, I think we'll have both the white wine and red wine. Is that alright, Mist?"

The wild blonde, quickly snapping out of her reverie, looked at her. "Huh?" Her wide eyes moved to the waitress, to the unopened menu, and back to the brunette waitress again. "Ah, may I have the same thing as her, please?"

"Absolutely," the waitress replied with a polite smile, before walking away.

The chocolate brown eyes studied Misty across the table. Uneasiness was quite visible on the girl's face, and she hadn't spoken a word since they had arrived at the place, except for when she'd placed an order. Of course, Cordelia had to remind herself, the wild blonde wasn't really the one to talk a lot.

"Is everything ok, Misty?" she probed, her tone soft and tender.

The girl in green shrugged her bare shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

At this, the older blonde raised her brows, amusement embellishing her orange lips. Seeing the Cajun so flustered was something new to Cordelia. Perhaps it was as pleasantly rare as a warm day in the middle of winter. It gave some kind of humanness to the quiet girl.

The waitress came back with two bottles of wine, and food was served shortly after. Just like a week before, they spent most of the time listening to silence. Misty's eyes were stubbornly trained on the stage, where a man played Gymnopedie on the piano.

The lack of words and eye contact would've discouraged Cordelia, would've made her think this dinner was a failure. Yet, with the awareness of her nervousness, even the silence was endearing.

 _I guess I'm getting the hang of this_ , the former teacher thought to herself.

Misty glanced at her, and found a rather teasing smile across the table. "What?" Her lips mirrored the other woman unconsciously. She had to thank alcohol for alleviating her tension and edginess. "Why are you smiling like that?"

The older blonde shook her head, giggles escaping her lips. "It's just, you know." The brown eyes landed on the wine glass in Misty's hand. "when we first met, you were still underage."

"It didn't stop me from enjoying alcohol, though."

The remark suddenly brought Cordelia back to when they first met. Zoe's party, the earsplitting trashy music, the drunken laughter of high-schoolers...among them, she'd found the feral-haired girl, standing in the middle of the room with a dumbstruck expression.

She heard herself chuckle in recollection. Her old-self had no idea it was the moment her life turned upside-down. "So much has changed since then."

"5 years is long enough for things to change."

Cordelia nodded in agreement. In the last five years, the girl had become a beautiful woman. She was now taller than the older woman, and her shape had become more feminine. The eyes that were soft and almost naïve had a sharp glint. The only thing that remained the same was the golden untamed curls. She had never seen how powerful time was until then.

The reverie was interrupted by the waitress, serving pieces of blueberry cake.

Cordelia grimaced in confusion. "We didn't order this."

"These are from the gentleman over there." The brunette waitress smiled, before turning her face to the table the said gentleman was seated.

Following the gaze of the brunette, the woman looked over Misty's shoulder. The wild blonde turned her head around simultaneously. It seemed such a cliché, to get a woman's attention like that, to flirt with her like that. She wanted to see what kind of man would do that.

_Douchebag, she's taken...by another douche..._

It only took a second until the pair of blue eyes found a man by the window. His smile was nauseatingly sweet as he raised his strong eyebrow at Cordelia. While the older woman waved at him, the wild blonde's forehead creased. It was a familiar smile, like she'd seen it so many times somewhere. Then, she recognized the guy in the instant.

With her mouth agape, the taller blonde turned back around. "Is that...the movie star? I don't know his name, but–" She whispered the words, because she felt like he could hear her across the restaurant.

"Tom," Cordelia answered as she savored the cake. "He is, um, a good friend of Hank's." She was collected, albeit a little tense at the mention of her husband.

This was her life. It didn't mean anything significant to interact with globally famous people. All this luxury was just a small part of the woman's lifestyle, made possible by her husband's power and money. When the younger woman realized this ruthless reality, there was no word that could pass her throat.

They were living in different worlds. Even though Misty wore a dress as expensive as the older blonde's, it was just a guise. Under the dress was a plain, poor college student, who couldn't make Cordelia happy like this. It made her hate herself, more than she hated the Hank guy.

When it was time to leave, the married blonde refused to let the other see the check. "I asked you to come with me. It's all on me, ok?"

The ride home was quiet. Cordelia, with her longing gaze, watched the wild blonde next to her, whose eyes were stubbornly chasing the pavement. If she was merely looking out the window, the older woman didn't have a problem with that. But it felt like Misty was somewhere else, retreating to her world, shutting everyone out.

Their physical distance was small, their metaphorical distance was greater than Nile river.

The girl was like a shadow, Cordelia thought. The closest existence to you, but it can never be caught. The moment you grasp it, it slips through your fingers like sand. Yet, she couldn't fight her desire to reach out, to touch her, to feel her existence. Their fingers laced together, and Cordelia felt the girl's warmth run up her arm to her heart.

Although the blue eyes still continued to look at the illuminated city, the younger blonde didn't retract her hand. They stayed like that until the car arrived at Misty's apartment.

"Thank you for tonight. I'll return them after I get this cleaned." The girl played with the hem of her dress, the black purse in the other hand.

Cordelia shook her head. "No, keep them. It looks better on you."

The plump lips of Misty parted to protest, but the older blonde didn't give her a chance. Instead, she scooted closer, put a hand on the wild blonde's shoulder, leaned in, and pressed her lips to her cheek. For goodnight, nothing more.

"Good night, Mist," she whispered in her ear. The body shivered under her touch, but the brown eyes failed to catch the expression on Misty's face.

Mumbling what sounded like a "Goodnight," the wild blonde rushed out of the car. She was determined not to stop running until she got into her apartment. Her feet hurt like they were on fire. _These goddamn motherfucker high heels_. But it was the least concerning thing to her at the moment.

In the frustrated state, she stormed into her room, throwing herself onto the beloved bed. Lying on her stomach, she could feel her heart pound against the mattress. It was jumping and running around inside the ribcage, like a child high on sugar.

She rubbed her cheek with her palm. Cordelia's kiss was light like a feather, yet so hot that the skin where her lips had touched was blistering. It hurt. It ached. It had awakened something in Misty, something she'd been trying to suppress.

 _You're fucked_ , the voice inside her head laughed at her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some major angst :( also Hank. ew

_"_ _Everybody said, "Follow your heart". I did, it got broken"_

**_―_ ** **_Agatha Christie_ **

 

The sunshine showered on the grass as the wind played with leaves of young summer. Birds chirped along with the sound of river water. The park was Misty's favorite part of the city. This was the only place she could escape the bustle of the stupidly crowded city.

Her eyes followed the words of a book in her hands, neat brows knotted together in concentration. The white part of the pages was reflecting the sunlight. The brightness hurt her eyes even from behind a pair of sunglasses. It was rather setting her teeth on edge.

Crossing her legs for a better reading position, she contemplated moving into shade.

As her fingers toyed with a pen, a ringtone interrupted her focus.

**_I can guess what you're wearing today. A black shirt, a pair of shorts, and sunglasses._ **

She blinked at the text from Cordelia. It wasn't a particularly specific guess considering the weather. Yet, with the lack of context, it was quite riddling.

Then, she caught a pair of legs in the corner of her eye. The blue spheres travelled up, and crinkled up at the sight of Cordelia looking down at her.

"Hey, stalker." Taking her sunglasses off, the feral-haired girl grinned in mirth.

Giggles fell from between the woman's lips, presenting her perfectly aligned teeth.

"I just happened to be taking a walk." As she sat next to Misty, the brown eyes admired the golden waterfall that was her mane. "Your hair is really something. I recognized you without looking at your face."

Slender fingers scooped a strand of curls, and the unexpected touch awoke hundreds of butterflies in the younger blonde's stomach.

She let out some coughs to ignore her reddening cheeks, as though the action could remove some of the butterflies from her system.

Her exasperation was immeasurable, even more so when she regarded Cordelia's outfit. Usually, –at least the usual Misty knew– the woman dressed in obviously expensive clothes.

Today, though, she was in a simple cardigan and a pair of jeans. The taller blonde found it oddly sensual, and had no idea how to handle the much uncalled-for pounding of her heart.

It was like seeing Cordelia only in her underwear, but somehow more erotic.

"What are you reading?" The married woman, oblivious to her frustrated state, asked.

Trying her best to stay causal and unaffected, Misty brought the book up and let the other see the cover. It said something about medical science, and the rest was cryptic to the brain of Cordelia.

"What fun."

Breathy laughs escaped the girl's mouth. "Yep."

"Oh, please, don't let me interrupt your study."

The chocolate brown watched Misty go back to reading. Her eyelashes fluttered in the wind, the plump lips moving slightly as she uttered some words from the textbook.

An eternity was too ephemeral to appreciate the total beauty of the wild blonde, Cordelia mused.

Her attention shifted downward. The collar of the shirt was loosely pulled down by the sunglasses hanging in front of her chest. Along with the sharp collarbones, it presented a good view of the valley between her breasts. Pale, with a little of freckles.

_Isn't she wearing a bra?_ The woman felt her breath quicken at the sight. It was doing a funny thing to her sanity that the question was unlikely to be answered in the moment.

The wild blonde, even though her attention was on the book, could sense the other blonde's uninhibited gaze on her skin. It sent chills down her spine and burned her ears at the same time.

So wound up, she spent the last five minutes reading the same one paragraph over and over again, and still couldn't comprehend a thing. A groan of defeat threatened to escape her throat.

This was when Cordelia's hand brushed her tresses, effectively making her heart jump out of her ribcage.

The brown eyes, wide and amused by the stratospheric reaction, locked with the flustered ones of Misty.

"You have a leaf in your hair," said the older woman. The mischievous smile contined to adorn her lips as she removed the leaf. She let out giggles again, before adding: "Actually, you have several leaves in your hair."

The girl raised her hand instinctively, but Cordelia stopped her. "I'll get them."

Her dainty fingers picked the leaflets one by one, gently and slowly, wishing she could tangle her fingers in the otherworldly golden hair.

"Here's the last one." With the last one of the offending leaves in front of the girl's, Cordelia gave her a playful smirk. "Make a wish."

It was a determinedly sultry voice, adorning the mischievous gesture. The wild blonde felt her heart skip a beat or two, but she managed to laughed it off.

Struggling not to drown in each other's eyes, they shared several seconds of bashful giggles. The innocence, for a fraction of a moment, enabled them to forget about what they had, and what they couldn't have because of those things.

The ring on the woman's finger, the hardened heart of the girl.

It was a moment of magic coming true, and Misty dared believe there was a wish-granting power in the little leaflet between Cordelia's fingers.

At the same time their laughter died down, they heard thunder ramble above them. The sun that had been bothering the younger blonde was now behind thick, ashy clouds. Carried by the wind, tiny raindrops began to wet the ground. It didn't look so promising.

"Shit," Cordelia cursed under her breath.

Quickly getting onto their feet, they ran. Unfortunately for them, the weather was relentless to those who sought shelter. It changed from drizzling to pouring in a matter of seconds.

What annoyed them more, though, was that it was starting to get sunny again when they fionally arrived at the apartment of the older woman.

The sky was free of clouds as though it had been sunny all day. The only way to know the havoc that was taking place was puddles in the streets, and the drenched clothes of the unlucky people.

"This city needs to get its shit together," Misty grumbled as she followed the shorter woman to her mansion.

It had been a quick turn, all happening in a heartbeat. When the girl had realized the older woman was leading her to that place, it was too late.Cordelia hadn't given her a choice.

Now they found themselves standing in the elevator, small puddles forming on the floor.

The agate eyes that mirrored the earlier moody sky were glued to the floor numbers above their heads.

The heavy door opened when they reached the top floor. Misty, expecting to find a hallway there, froze in surprise for a second to see they were already standing in the apartment.

The walls were lavished with sickeningly white wallpaper, the living room was twice as spacious as the girl's apartment. Even with a large couch in the center of the room, it didn't seem like a place where people lived. It was lavish alright, like what you see in a magazine. It just exuded coldness and colorlessness.

While the tall blonde was occupied with examining the extravagant place, Cordelia trotted to the bathroom. She came back with bath towels, one for each.

Standing in front of the other, the shorter blonde ran her maroon eyes over her body.

The wet feral curls stuck to the pale skin of her neck. Below that, the black shirt, too, was stuck to her body, revealing what was underneath it, leaving little to Cordelia's imagination. It gave the answer to her earlier suspicion about Misty's lack of bra.

She absentmindedly licked her lips as her eyes caught the two sharp mounds beneath the soaked fabric.

The taller woman shivered, and pulled her out of the not-so-innocent daydream. Feeling a bit bold, Cordelia threw a towel on the head of tresses, and wiped them dry for her.

Their proximity allowed her to look at the girl's delicate face from up close. She breathed in the smell of rain mixed with the scent unique to Misty, and it intoxicated her.

Giggles escaped Misty's lips as her fingers brushed Cordelia's. "I can do that myself, y'know. I ain't a child."

"Right, of course." Cordelia, with her lip-biting smile on, took a step back.

The lack of closeness was rather vexatious. Yet, she couldn't help but feel victorious that the wild blonde hadn't pulled away. It was a sign of their unfolding relationship, a small token of Cordelia's triumph.

"Take a shower. The bathroom is down the hallway."

"No, you shower first. It's your house."

"Ah-uh, you're going first. I'll get clothes for you." The shorter woman began to leave the spot, but caught the girl rolling her eyes at the suggestion. "Misty." Her voice failed to conceal mischief.

"Cordelia," the frizzy blonde mimicked her.

"You are a student. You can't risk your heath."

"And I'm younger than you, which means I am healthi—" The quip earned a light, playful smack on her upper arm. "It's true! I can wait until you're done."

On the spur of the moment, the married woman stepped closer, stroking Misty's fingers with hers. "Or we can shower together."

The second those words left her lips, she regretted it. The blue looked back at the brown in utter shock. It was like a splash of water on their intoxicated faces, sobering them up from each other's presences.

Cordelia realized she had been blind to the fact that there existed an invisible line between them, and it was that line she'd stepped over.

"Ok, I—I'll shower first."

This was all the dumbfounded girl could manage to mumble before running away. She was too shocked to look at the other woman, too shocked to even blush.

There was also this feeling of betrayal that took root inside her chest. She felt betrayed that Cordelia had dared say such a thing out loud. She felt betrayed by herself for allowing that to happen.

It was all fun and innocent, only because she had been convincing herself so.  
  


**_What are you doing right now?_ **

Cordelia glared at the text she'd just sent. It would probably join the collection of unread previous texts, but she kept staring at it anyway.

It had been like this since the "shower incident." That day, Misty had left the apartment right after getting out of the shower. Like a timid deer. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. Her lips tight and only producing polite words.

The married woman remembered being mesmerized, despite the rejection, by how her own clothes looked on the wild blonde. But she'd never had a chance to tell her.

It was a nightmare. The girl was acting like they were strangers again. Cordelia had been planting little trees for their kingdom, one by one, only to have them burned down to ashes.

The worst part was, she was the one who'd started the fire. Being with Misty kindled something in her that she'd never experienced with anyone else. Playing with fire felt so right and so good. She wanted more of the warmness, the scorching fire, the butterflies with flaming wings.

And this was what she got as a consequence of being reckless. Days of silence and more to follow.

**_I'm bored._ **

She sent another one.

"By the way, Mrs. Foxx, you look quite beautiful tonight."

A patronizing voice of a woman spoke, and the married blonde looked up from her phone.

The woman in her forties—Hank'd said she was the wife of somebody important to his company—smiled at her. The expression was soft on the surface, yet underneath it was a stern look of reprehension, judging her for looking at her phone instead of joining their uninteresting conversation. It reminded Cordelia where she was and what she should be doing.

She and Hank were attending some dinner party, an important business thing apparently.

The woman could not care less, though, and preferred to be somewhere else. Somewhere her wild-haired girl was.

All this extravagance used to be new and exciting. Shortly after their engagement, Hank had started to take Cordelia to every party and gala, introducing her to the life of the top one percent.

But as time passed, she couldn't help but feel suffocated by the excessive lifestyle. Now, everything, from the abrasive scent of perfumes to the hypocritical smiles of the people, made her nauseous.

She didn't belong there, and they knew it. And she knew that they knew.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gerstein," Cordelia politely replied to the fake compliment of the other woman. This party couldn't end sooner, she thought.

"Isn't she gorgeous indeed?" Hank, with a glass of Champaign in his hand, wrapped his other arm around the shoulder of his wife. Drawing his bearded face closer to her ear, the man whispered: "I can't wait to go home and take that dress off your body."

At that, all the blonde woman could do was to pretend a coy smile.

Over his shoulder, she saw a woman with gorgeous blonde curls. It made her think of Misty.  
  


The wild blonde woke up to the sound of someone loudly knocking on the door.

She had fallen asleep in her couch last night, and slept for 12 hours straight. Her back hurt like crazy, and now there was someone uninvited at the door.

It wasn't quite the best way to start a day.

She stretched, yawned, and walked to the door, while dragging her right leg that she'd hurt the day before. With her half-open eyes, she leaned against the door to see through the peephole. Cordelia was standing there like a hell keeper.

Even with the door between them, Misty could tell she wasn't here to have fun. A sigh escaped the girl's lips, before opening the door for her.

Silence was heavy as Cordelia walked in. The brown eyes glared in a mixture of accusation and disappointment, such a powerful look that Misty could only look down.

"You've been ignoring me," the older woman broke the silence at last. "Why? You haven't replied to any of my texts for a week."

"I wasn't ignoring you. I was busy."

The taller blonde pinched the bridge of her nose, waving at the table, whose surface was entirely covered by books and notes. It looked like someone had replaced that section of the neat apartment with a library after a hurricane.

"Midterms. I had a bunch of tests this week."

Cordelia wasn't sure if she could believe the words of the feral-haired girl. It seemed that the girl could have, no matter how busy she might have been, at least sent brief messages back. But there was no complete certainty for the suspected dishonesty.

"Oh, right...I'm sorry," she said.

Misty heard doubt in her voice.

It wasn't a lie, at least not entirely. There was a part of the truth she kept hidden from the older woman.

After what happened in Cordelia's apartment, she had sworn to keep a distance from her. At least, until her rationality took complete control over her disobeying heart.

Thankfully, the midterms were around the corner, and she'd seen it as a perfect opportunity. She immersed herself in them so there would be no time, not even a millisecond, to let her mind wander to the married woman.

But of course, every second of procrastination had a consequence. Now that she had no more excuses to make, there was no choice but to face the woman.

Although feeling somewhat gilt-ridden, she kept a defiant mask on.

"Well, is that all?" Misty asked. "If that's what you came here for, I'd like to go back to bed now."

Even after 12-hour-long sleep, more of it sounded a good idea. As she started walking away, she hobbled. _Shit_. Her leg thing had totally escaped her memory.

"What happened to your leg?" Cordelia was quick.

The taller blonde responded with a shrug. "I twisted the ankle yesterday apparently. It'll be fine."

"Let me see it."

Despite Misty's protest, the shorter blonde took her by the arm and led her to the couch. She knelt down in front of the girl. When her slender fingers touched the ankle, the girl hissed above her.

"You need to cool it. Do you have ice?"

Without waiting for an answer, Cordelia strolled to the freezer, immediately finding a bag of ice there.

"I'm really fine. It's not like I have a broken bone—" the wild blonde stood up, but was forced to sit back with a gentle push.

Chills ran down her spine when ice touched her skin. _It is the coldness_ , she told herself. Not the hand that caressed her ankle.

The older blonde stayed there like that for a while, eyes trained on her own hand with the bag of ice.

Yet, as seconds ticked by, her attention gradually shifted elsewhere. Upward, trailing the smooth skin of the girl's legs with her dilated pupils. There were no flaws on the pale canvas, except for one old scar on her left knee.

Her breath hitched. It was probably a mark from her childhood, which was quite endearing if it had been on anyone else's knee. But it happened to be on Misty's porcelain body, and Cordelia had never known a scar could be so alluring, so sensual, so tempting.

Her eyes traveled higher and higher, to the hips, to the chest, to the neck, and to the stormy ocean eyes.

Their pounding hearts were almost drowning out the silence as they stared into each other's eyes.

Misty couldn't move her gaze or even blink, no matter how hard she struggled. Transfixed, paralyzed, as if under a magic spell.

Then, she felt the hand move upwards, slow and careful. Like a snake, like Cordelia was testing the boundaries. The veins on her inner thigh pulsated under the older blonde's fingertips.

The dark brown gaze and the soft touch burned her skin slowly.

Although it hurt, the wild blonde couldn't resist it, couldn't help but wonder what it'd feel like when her skin blistered open under Cordelia's touch.

But the sunlight came in and reflected against the diamond ring. The spell was broken, and the wild blonde jerked at the cold metal against her skin like it was a scorching coal.

With her still drumming heart, she slapped the slithering hand away, before rising from the couch abruptly.

_You stupid. Such a weak heart. What happened to the vow? You promised to your goddamn self. Why did you allow this to go this far? She was supposed to stay away. You were supposed to keep her away._

Cordelia reached for her hand from behind, but the wild blonde brushed it away.

"Don't," she spat out, without any intention to hide the harsh tone of her voice. "Don't ever do that again."

Pain was evident in the eyes of the married blonde. The slap had done more damage to her heart than to the hand.

More agonizing was the fact that this time, she'd really thought she could have Misty. This could have been the moment they became more than the product of their past. A chance to hold the pen and rewrite their story.

"Misty—"

"No, don't _Misty_ me. I don't wanna hear it." The usually tight faucet of her emotions was quickly loosening, and it seemed almost impossible to stop her rage from spilling out. "I don't give a crap about your excuses. You are married, and this is highly inappropriate, you know that."

This uncharacteristic outburst rendered Cordelia speechless, utterly at a loss for words.

"But...I don't love him. I—"

"And you love me instead? Do you?" Spinning around, the taller blonde finally met the brown eyes. There swirled a vortex of pain and hurt in the agate spheres. "Or is it the girl who sat next to you at the piano 5 years ago? She's gone, you know that. And if you're trying to make me her, well, it's no use."

In the midst of the outburst, there was part of her that was still calm enough to wonder; is it really worth it? Worth the frustration, worth the heartache.

She didn't even know why she was so angry. All she knew was that she didn't want to see the ring on Cordelia's finger for another second.

How dare she get married, and desire another person's love? How dare she? Misty didn't want to understand how the woman had managed to live without her for the last five years.

Tears brimmed and threatened to soak Cordelia's cheeks. "You said you loved me." Her voice was frail.

"5 years ago, Cordelia. 5 years. It's long enough to change a person, I told you that many times." Her wild curls bounced around her shoulders as she shook her head. "Don't be naïve and think I'm still in love with you," she whispered, both to Cordelia and to herself.

The shorter woman tightened her jaw, struggling to keep her voice from trembling. "Right, you truly have changed." Bitterness was woven into every word she spoke. The venom, the only way Cordelia knew how to protect herself. "You've become like me when I was your age."

"And you've become naive, like me 5 years ago." Misty curled her lip in response.

The dejected and irritated woman turned on her heels, grabbing her purse and walking towards the exit. She was used to rejection, it was never a new concept or feeling.

But never had she ever imagined the girl would make such an intentional attempt to hurt her like this. They were supposed to protect each other from the world's cruelty, not hurt each other and become part of the brutal world.

With her hand on the doorknob, she heard the younger blonde call for her. She turned around, and saw a deep frown that mirrored her own.

Then Misty said: "You...you shouldn't come here anymore."

The sound of the door slammed shut echoed in the apartment, leaving the girl with nothing but devastating silence.


	4. Chapter 4

_"_ _The Greek word for "return" is nostos. Algos means "suffering." So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return."_

_**―** _ _**Milan Kundera, Ignorance** _

The wild blonde stared at the ceiling of her bedroom with her empty eyes. It had been weeks since she had pushed Cordelia away. Well, at least that was what the calendar said; to her senses, it felt like forever, even longer than what people call an eternity.

She would still go to classes, do homework, and occasionally work if necessary. The all-familiar routine of her life was soothing to her aching heart, and it distracted her from the things she'd said to the married woman.

Had she been unfair?—maybe. Had she gotten her desired consequences?—absolutely.

Cordelia had stopped texting her altogether, and the butterflies in her stomach no longer had a source of energy. They were withering, writhing in anguish, waiting for their end. Exactly what Misty needed.

Still, every once in a while—between classes, on her way home, or when she was waiting for her coffee to be ready—her mind would seek the image of the older blonde. Then every time Cordelia smiled at her in her dreams, she'd wake up with the butterflies, revitalized and rejuvenated. It wasn't up to her to decide whether or not to have these dreams.

She had no control over her own mind anymore. Nothing was fair to the heart of the wild blonde.

Nothing.  
  
  
  


It was one of these humid summer nights, when the city just seemed so insomniac. Sleep became a luxury on these nights, and Misty found herself having a difficulty in going to sleep. Tossing and turning under a blanket, she listened to the squeals of the people in the street.

The green light of her alarm clock too bright for her drowsy eyes.

Another minute passed by, and just as she finally began to drift off, her phone beside the pillow vibrated. An annoyed sigh escaped her lips. The creases on her forehead only deepened when she saw Cordelia's name on the bright screen. In her grip, the phone kept ringing and vibrating.

It took another second or three for the girl to realize it was a phone call, not a text.

Heaving another sigh, she decided to answer at last.

"Hello?" Her voice was raspier with fatigue, but there was only dead silence on the other side of the phone. "Cordelia?"

"What are you doing right now?"

The younger blonde couldn't help but bury her face in the pillow for a second. There couldn't have been any more ridiculous question than that.

"I was sleeping." The answer had more resemblance to a groan than a sentence.

It earned another silence, albeit short this time. "Why were you sleeping? It's still 5 p.m."

"I'm quite sure it's 3 in the morning," Misty mumbled, before frowning. "Where the hell are you?"

"Dubai." The brown eyes looked over the white beach before her. The tender waves sparkled in the sun, and the lighter blue of the sky met the ocean at the horizon. "I wish you were here. The ocean waves remind me of you. They are the color of your eyes."

"...Are you drunk?"

Shifting in her chair, Cordelia glanced at the almost empty wine bottle, placed next to a soon-to-be-opened bottle on the patio table.

"A bit," she mumbled. "I miss you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss seeing your face. I miss you."

The drunken voice contained a bit of desperation, and loads of fragility. It broke Misty's heart, and the pieces of it stabbed her inside. She was almost tempted to say the same thing to the older woman. It wouldn't be a lie, but at the same time, she knew she shouldn't.

"I need to wake up early tomorrow morning."

"Misty," the older blonde pleaded, on the verge of tears. "Don't kick me out of your life. I finally found you again, when I thought I never would."

So much time had been spent crying over the wild blonde, the only true love in her wretched life. And now she was shedding another tear, for the time and a piece of her soul that were threatening to go wasted again.

"After you'd left, I spent every single day telling myself I could live without you, that I was strong enough to forget you." The ocean breeze absorbed a broken sob. "But I'm not...I'm not that strong no matter how hard I try...You were right, I'm weak, always have been. I'm weak and I need you in my life. Our days were the happiest moments of my life. Please, don't leave me again."

 _Don't leave me_.

There were no words crueler than these three words, Cordelia had no idea. They were exactly what Misty'd needed five years ago, on top of the hill where they parted. If the older blonde had said it to her back then, it would've made a difference. Although her family still would've moved, the wild blonde would have had something to hold on to for five years.

The five years of hollowness could have been something less unbearable. Her heart might not have had to endure so much pain by itself. Nobody deserves anything that makes them wonder if heartbreak could actually kill them.

And now what? Such tenacious affection inundated her steeled heart. It stung as though Cordelia had peeled her scab off in one swift motion. The old wound—it had never healed as it turned out—was oozing pus again, and the pain of it all was just too familiar and poignant. The sweet agony of craving someone she couldn't have.

"Cordelia..." she opened her mouth. Staring at the city outside the window, she waited for a reply from the married blonde.

But all there was to be heard was the sound of ocean waves. _She must've fallen asleep or something_ , the feral-haired girl figured. Eventually, as gentle waves continued to whisper in her ear, Misty let them her lullaby, too.  
  
  
  


It was becoming a bigger problem, their undefined relationship. Or perhaps, the wild blonde thought, the problem had been big to begin with, and her view simply had become clearer.

She spent a considerable amount of time preparing herself for the things to come. The midnight revelation of Cordelia had cleared away her clouds of fear and doubt. Not all, but some of them, enough to convince herself that it was time she became honest with herself and the older woman.

_Stop by my place when you are back?_

She sent the text right after getting home from class. Though, she didn't know how long it'd take; it could be weeks or even months later until Cordelia travelled back to the city. Misty could endure those possible days of waiting, if it meant a breakthrough for their relationship at the end.

Falling onto the couch, she looked longingly at the screen of her smartphone. Her expression turned into a grimace, despondent and a little sulky. Although it seemed like the message had been read by the other blonde a couple of minutes ago, there was no response. Was the woman going to ignore her text, just like she'd done?

As the wild blonde threw her head back and grunted, she heard a gentle knock on the door, followed by two more.

Cordelia, on the other side of the door, patted her silky hair as she waited, with a bouquet of snapdragon in her grip. The door was opened in a timid manner, and a pair of wide eyes appeared in front of her. A hint of shyness tugged at the corners of the woman's red lips.

"You are...fast," the younger woman said, amused and puzzled by how promptly her wish had been granted.

Seeing this surprise visit had been a success, the woman with flowers offered a grin. "I came back this morning. May I come in?"

Misty, after letting the woman in, stood in the middle of the living room. A brief moment of silence allowed them to run their eyes over each other. A vestige of the trip overseas remained on the slightly darkened skin of the married blonde, the taller girl noted.

Cordelia took a package out of her purse. "Dates. They are quite nutritious. I thought you'd like them."

At first, she had considered buying something made of gold for the wild blonde, but given the uncertain circumstances, it'd seemed an excessive gesture. When the tight-lipped girl took it, she held the other hand out and offered the bouquet.

"And this, too."

The grey agate eyes gawked at the splendid flowers. Heaps of tiny petals in multiple pastel colors spilled over the edge of the plain wrapping paper, sweeping Misty off her feet. It was like a jar of pastel candy for eyes.

"Thanks. They are gorgeous."

Her cheeks were painted in the same color as some of the flowers in her hands. The gifts were so exquisite she almost forgot about the trip, the place Cordelia might have gone with her husband, the nights she might have spent in bed with him.

"Have you been to the flower shop down the street?" the shorter blonde asked.

"No." The taller blonde shook her head as she carefully put the flowers in a vase. "But I know where you're talking about."

"I was on my way here, and found that place." Standing beside her, Cordelia watched the girl's ringed fingers stroke the edge of a petal. "I didn't know if you liked flowers, but...they made me think of you. The shape, the colors, and—just everything about this flower. And when the florist there told me the meaning of it, it just clicked. It's so you, and—"

Abruptly, Misty turned her face and raised a brow at her. "You think me devious?"

No word could come out of the woman's mouth for a fraction of a second. With her eyes wide in an almost comical manner, she quickly regained her ability to speak.

"No, no, it means grace and strength. I didn't—"

"I know." The girl bashfully grinned, impish giggles falling. "It also means concealment and deviousness. Still kinda applies to me."

The older woman nodded, her bottom lip between her teeth. The lopsided-smile on the girl's plump lips was a fine combination of mischief, sensuality, and dare she say, such Misty-ness. And it made Cordelia's mouth go dry in the most pleasant way possible.

"I—well—the clerk said something similar to that. But I didn't expect you to be familiar with flower symbolism."

"I am. I find it intriguing. Flowers are simply pretty to look at, too. I used to live near a flower shop when I was 14. I'd go there every day after school. The clerk must have been pretty annoyed. A weird kid wandering around every day, not buying anything, ever."

The recollection pinched a corner of Cordelia's heart with its innocence. "I don't know anything about you, do I?" she murmured, a downhearted smile in her eyes.

All she knew about the girl was the one year of high school, only in the piano room. No matter how significant those days were to the older blonde, they were merely a small part of Misty's life. She didn't know anything else. The girl's life outside the room, her life before Cordelia, and after Cordelia.

"You know more than most people do," Misty confessed.

"Really?"

The taller blonde nodded lightly before taking a deep breath. It came out shaky, subtly enough to go unnoticed, vibrating the air and the dainty petals.

"I'm not really good at opening up to people, right?" She saw Cordelia nod rather hesitantly in the corner of her eye. "It's easy for me to shut people out. It's in my nature."

They were alike, the married woman thought to herself. The girl's words were so effortlessly pellucid, as though they were her own words coming out of her own mouth. But it was such a forlorn affinity, because it meant both of them knew the same pain and the same fear. They were both familiar with the constant ambivalence between doubt and faith towards the world and the people in it.

"But you're special." Misty's voice cut through the air around them. "I care about you."

Taken aback, Cordelia gawked at her. Although those blue-grey eyes were stubbornly trained on the rim of the vase, she still could see a shadow of insecurity in them, bubbling with overwhelming fear.

The wild blonde swallowed. "You were the only one that I ever give two shits about. You're my first everything. The first person to ever make me feel like I belong somewhere. The first person that I ever fell in love with." The last part drew blood to Cordelia's neck and cheeks. "...and the first and only person that was ever hard to say goodbye to." Misty let out a sigh, a little escape of breath. "I care about you."

Such a soul-baring confession, so painfully honest it made the woman's heart ache. Cordelia got lost in her eyes, the jewels that you can only find on the edge of the world, where the ocean and the heaven melts together. She reached out, but the taller blonde continued to talk.

"I just want you to know that, I didn't push you away the other day because you were married. I knew that already when I went out for coffee with you. I pushed you away because...I got scared. When you look at me, I feel like you're still seeing the teenage girl, the girl who isn't me." Another deep breath. "When we parted, I told myself I'd be fine without you, told myself that you were only a small part of my life that I could forget about. You weren't the only one that got hurt, ok?" Shaking her head, Misty felt little droplets of tear spill from her eyes. "And I was doing good. I was still breathing without you. My heart was still beating without you. But you came back into my life, and got me reminded how it felt to have you beside me. It felt warm and safe, and you hadn't changed a bit. So, I thought if I let you in again, only to have you realize I'm not who you want to be with, then I—"

And that was the end of it. Cordelia couldn't stop herself anymore. Her heart wept, wailed, and howled for the pain, as if to compensate the numbness it'd had to endure for the past five years. Pulling the younger blonde into her arms, she hoped the embrace was tight enough to convey her feelings, how sorry she was for all of this.

"I fell in love with a girl when I was a teacher," she murmured in Misty's neck. "We used to spend hours in a dim room, playing the piano, talking about everything. She was very gentle and so honest. I was blinded by her bright smiles. But I got scared when I realized I couldn't see anything but her, so I ran away. I thought, if I put an end to it myself, it would be easier. Before she had to move, she held me like this on top of a hill. I regretted not telling her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me, and prayed to God that I could see her once again."

She breathed in, and the musky scent of Misty invaded her nose. It was a different scent from that of the girl in her memory.

"But you are not her, are you? I'm never going to see her again, am I? I have to say goodbye to her in order to stay in your life. And I will. I will say goodbye to her. I just—" With another surging wave of tears, she clung to the taller girl. "I loved her. I really did."

Having to let go of her past, the part of her life that had saved her from dark times, was no way easy. To be physically stabbed in the chest hurt much, much less, Cordelia was sure.

"She knows, Cordelia," Misty choked out, hugging the woman just as tightly. "She knows. You'll never have to doubt about that."

Then, she pressed her quivering lips to the woman's forehead, something she couldn't have done five years ago, when she was the shorter one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your comments :)))

 

_"_ _Hard is trying to rebuild yourself, piece by piece, with no instruction book, and no clue as to where all the important bits are supposed to go."_

_**―** _ _**Nick Hornby, A Long Way Down** _

Soft rays of sunshine showered on the pastel-colored flowers on the living room table, the incoming breeze making the petals dance.

With her chin on her knees, Misty sat on the couch in tranquility. She sniffed away the remnant of the earlier tears, and let out a long, satisfying breath. The apartment had seen her tears so many times, but it knew this time was different from the many other times. And the feral-haired girl smiled as she heard Cordelia's footsteps coming from the bathroom.

"I look like shit." The older blonde chuckled. Though her makeup still on point, her eyes were slightly puffy.

"Yeah," Misty agreed, giggling like an innocent child. "You're gorgeous shit, though."

At that seemingly nonchalant remark, Cordelia bit her bottom lip coyly. As casually as the girl had managed to do it, it was such a rare occurrence for the girl to be flirtatious nonetheless. It might have been the first time, and it was enough to make Cordelia's stomach flip.

With light steps, the woman sauntered to the couch and leaned in, hoping for their first kiss. But Misty ducked her head.

"You still don't know about me," she told Cordelia.

The brown eyes looked at the girl. "Ok." After shrugging her shoulders, the older blonde offered a brave smile. She repositioned herself in the couch and said: "I'm Cordelia Goode. What's your name?"

The shamed grimace on Misty's face was replaced with a puzzled one. "What?"

"I'm introducing myself, like we are meeting for the first time. What is your name?"

"I'm...Misty Day."

"What do you do?"

The wild blonde couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You know what I do."

"Oh come on. Just roll with it, will you? I'm trying to get to know you."

Come to think of it, they had never done a proper introduction before. Since they'd met at Zoe's shenanigans of a party, they had grown close to each other over less than a year. But their conversations were always adorned with hesitation of the former teacher.

The foundation of their story was a coincidence, their bond glued together by coward pretenses. And five years later, here in this sunbathed room, they were seeing their friendship reborn.

"I, ah, am a medical student." Shy, but mischievous chuckles escaped the plump lips of the girl. "You?"

"A housewife."

Misty playfully raised her brow, but added nothing else as the other blonde stared back innocuously. It wasn't the best time to talk about the marriage.

"Your turn. Ask me a question," Cordelia urged the wild blonde.

"Um..." Sitting back, Misty racked her brains, and spent several seconds like that.

Cordelia chuckled at the fruitless effort. "Don't you do this when you make friends?"

"I don't have friends." Her voice had a sense of sarcasm ingrained, which prompted the woman to giggle. "Ok, here's one." The grey eyes crank up. "What's your favorite movie?"

"The Notebook." The honest answer earned a mock-judgmental look from the blue-eyed girl. "It's such a romantic story! Makes me cry every time I watch it. Don't you cry at the end?"

"Never seen it before."

Cordelia widened her eyes, her jaw dropping. "Are you serious?" The wild blonde gave her a simple nod. "Oh God. I need to—I need to make you see that some time soon." Once she heard Misty chuckle, she continued. "What is your favorite movie, anyway?"

"Wreck-It Ralph," said Misty. The older blonde, mimicking the girl's earlier mockery, raised a brow. "Shut up, it's a good movie." Laughs tumbled out of Misty's mouth as she felt the need to defend her favorite film.

"I didn't say anything."

"Ah huh, not with your mouth, at least."

There was a flattering smile across Cordelia's face. What an incredible feeling it was, to just spend time together without having to tolerate any pain or frustration, to be the reason for someone's laughter. She hadn't felt that in years.

"Favorite color?" the woman asked.

"Black and gold, you?"

"Light blue." She stared into the girl's eyes. "It's the color of your eyes."

It seemed like that particular phrase was the older woman's favorite. And even though Misty had heard it several times before, it still possessed the power to make her blush, chuckle like a child.

With her cheeks that burned comfortably, the girl asked: "If you could have one superpower, what would it be?"

"Mind reading."

"I want to be able to fly like a bird."

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

Misty had to pause and think about that. The first time she saw Cordelia in the dark room, from the other side of a window. Though the woman existed in her mind as nothing more than a mere concept at the time, her heart had drummed against her ribcage like she'd found the reincarnation of Cleopatra. Perhaps, her heart knew how important the mysterious ghost would be to her life. If that was what people call 'love at first sight,' then Misty had no choice but believe in it.

"Yeah I do," she said, and saw the older blonde nod rather ponderously. "Don't you?"

"No," Cordelia answered with a shake of the head. "I know sometimes there are moments where you feel like electricity just ran through your body after you set your eyes on someone. But it's only superficial, I think. It's an obsession of a sort. Different from love." She momentarily looked up, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "...to love, you have to work for it. You have to see who they really are, not just obsessing over the fantasy you create in your head."

Despite the different point of views—or perhaps because of the difference—, Misty only drowned deeper in the chocolate brown eyes. She, for a fraction of a second, wondered what caused the woman to believe that way. Was it the story between them? Was it something else that the wild blonde didn't know of, someone else before her? Maybe there would be a time in the future for the inquiry.

Misty gave her a smile, and moved onto the next question. "Where do you want to live in the future?"

"In the future? Hmmm." The shorter woman bit her lip. "I don't have any precise image, but somewhere by the ocean, where I can casually take a walk on the beach," she said. "You?"

"By the ocean." The girl, without taking a pause, whispered.

Cordelia saw no hesitation or uncertainty in the eyes of blue-grey in that moment. Just plain conviction, perhaps embellished by a little bit of bravery. She remembered those eyes. They were the sparks she'd needed to have, in the dark room, and on top of the hill.

Scooting closer, she hovered over the wild blonde. They breathed the same air, and the nostalgia and the anticipation for what was to come swirled together within her. And this was the moment she finally got the hold of their story.

Misty, feeling their breathing slowly become in sync, asked another question: "Have you ever kissed a woman?"

The older blonde shook her head ever so slightly. "Have you?"

"Yeah," the girl answered quietly. The corners of her lips turned upwards just a little when the blue eyes caught the surprised, hesitant expression on the other's face. "...half an hour ago, on your forehead."

Then they were kissing, slowly and gently. There was no music or electricity in their veins when their lips touched. No fanfare or end rolls. They were only surrounded by plainness. Everything remained the way they had always been.

And although it was anything but what Misty or Cordelia had imagined their first kiss would be like, there was nothing that could make the moment any more perfect. It was exactly what they'd wished for.  
  
  
  


_**Come over. I want to show you something.** _

Misty'd gotten the text from the older woman during the last class of the day. As she walked down the street of Lenox Hill, the most affluent neighborhood in Manhattan, she wondered what was waiting for her in the lavish apartment. Cordelia was refusing to tell her, insisting to keep it a surprise.

Little affectionate shenanigans like this were still rare to their newly-unfolded relationship, and thus precious like gold. Misty would enjoy those moments with every fiber of her being, and would give the other just as much joy. But at the same time, she couldn't turn a blind eye to the fact that there was this murk that co-resided in her heart.

Cordelia's mansion was a place of unknown, outside her territory, because it was where Mr. and Mrs. Foxx lived. No matter what Mrs. Foxx might insist, the world around the two women only cared about the solid, tangible fact on paper.

The wild blonde might as well be nobody once she set foot into the mansion. It was not a place for her, a broke and a bit broken girl with no social or financial power. Visiting there to see Cordelia, she felt like a tiny bird flying straight into the cave of, well, a fox. Though the fox might be absent at the moment, the fear of getting caught and what would follow was immeasurable.

Some people might find euphoric elements to the very act of sneaking around and invading the territory of their enemy. Some might see that thrill is the delicious part of an affair. But Misty wasn't that kind of person, and this, what she had with Cordelia, was not an affair.

With heavy steps and racing mind, the path to the most expensive mansion in the city seemed longer than she remembered. The gate looked heavier, the elevator felt slower.

Cordelia eagerly walked towards her when she stepped out of the elevator, giving her a peck on the lips. Her slim fingers ran through the wild strands that she adored as much as the blue-grey eyes. Resting her chin on the strong shoulder of the wild blonde, she murmured: "I missed this."

"We saw each other like two days ago, though?" the girl chuckled in the silky blonde hair. "and we talked on the phone last night?"

"But I can't feel your warmth over the phone, can't feel your skin against my lips. I need to be able to nuzzle into your hair and smell the scent of you, and feel your heartbeat against my chest." The brown gazed into the blue. "Your voice sounds so much better when your lips are right next to my ear."

The wild blonde felt her entire face burn. Verbal language, affectionate or not, was never her thing; she wasn't accustomed to giving or receiving. And every time Cordelia's words of love flooded her, the only way for reciprocity seemed to be tightening her embrace.

Misty buried her nose in the crook of her neck, and the other blonde hummed in content.

Cordelia took the girl's warm hand after pulling away, with much reluctance, from their embrace.

"Follow me. I have a surprise for you."

The sound of their footsteps bounced against the white walls as the woman led the younger blonde. One in a pair of designer's heels that could cost more than a brand-new Mercedes, the other in decrepit bikers' boots with worn-out soles and discolored spots. The two distinctive sounds played an anthem reflective of their devotion, such liveliness so foreign to the cold, hollow, spiritless mansion.

"So you are not gonna tell me what it is?" Misty cocked her eyebrow.

"No," the older blonde answered with a little sass in her voice.

Their fingers stayed intertwined as they stopped in front of a closed door. Her brown eyes shone like those of a child about to show off what she'd made.

"Close your eyes."

"Oh God, this is so cheesy," the taller woman laughed out. She obeyed the woman anyway, after getting a semi-threatening look and a squeeze of her hand.

It allowed Cordelia a chance to study her features without being distracted by the grey sapphire of her eyes. The long eyelashes, the porcelain complexion of her skin, the perfectly defined lips. And she spent a second or two wondering how she'd gotten so lucky to be able to call this angel her girlfriend. She shifted her gaze back to the closed eyes, and found a small freckle on the corner of her left eyelid, nearly hidden by the line of eyelashes. Cordelia had never noticed it before; there had never been an opportunity like this.

And realizing nobody might have seen the lone black star, she felt a kind of sensuality and pride. Misty might not even know about it herself. It was part of the angel reserved only for Cordelia, and Lord, didn't that feel great.

Waving her hand in front of Misty's face, the shorter blonde made sure the girl wasn't cheating. With an ear-to-ear grin that mirrored the other's, she stole a chaste kiss, savoring the giggles that tumbled out of her angel's mouth.

Misty heard a creak of the door, and felt a gentle pull. They walked into the secret chamber, the taller girl following the other with timid steps. The lack of sight was nothing but frustrating, and every giggle of Cordelia tempted her to roll her eyes behind her eyelids.

The floor under her feet felt the same as the living room, hard and cold. But there was something that set this place distinguishable from the other rooms, the wild blonde noticed. Their footsteps didn't echo as much, as though they were absorbed into an abyss or something.

No longer feeling the pull, Misty stopped and asked: "May I open my eyes now, your Majesty?"

The older blonde let out a snort.

"Yes, you may, my love."

While trying her hardest to keep her elated squeaks in, she watched the grey agate eyes open and widen. Little sparkles in them at the sight of the grand piano before them, occupying the center of the soundproof chamber.

"It arrived today," she told the aghast girl.

"You mean, you bought it?" Utter surprise claimed its presence in her raspy voice, an octave higher than usual.

"No, I sneaked into a store last night, stole it, and carried it into this room all by myself."

"I mean, you bought it for me?" Misty asked again, failing to comprehend the blatant sarcasm. It was not just about the musical instrument; to have a music room automatically meant having to refurbish a room and install soundproof walls, especially in a neighborhood like this.

The woman replied with an eye roll. "For us, Mist. I bought it so we could enjoy music like we used to."

She knew very well how the girl felt about Cordelia spending money for her. Whenever they went to their favorite café, the wild blonde would insist on buying a coffee herself. Let it be books for school, or simple stuff like clothes and food, Misty would almost never allow the older woman to spend a penny for her. And when Cordelia _accidentally_ forgot about it and purchased something costly, it would always result in knotted brows and a creased forehead, accompanied by numerous sighs. It was just a pride thing, the older woman assumed.

The shorter blonde took the girl's hand again. "Don't overthink, please. It's not just for you, but for myself, too. Come on, I'll play whatever you want me to."

With a sole sigh of concession, the wild blonde walked to the keyboard, pressing a long finger on a key. The sharp sound cut through the air, but never reaching outside the room.

The former teacher sat in the stool, before patting the spot beside her. "Sit with me, will you?"

The chair was sturdy, it didn't creak like the one in their old piano room. Wiggling her butt and repositioning herself, Misty was doing a poor job at hiding her dorky grin.

Yes, that feeling, the warmth of the woman next her, the monotonous repetition of black and white, and the heavy golden pedals at their feet. Misty on the right side of the stool, Cordelia on the left. Those things were familiar.

"Well—" the woman said. "What do you want me to play?"

"My favorite."

The quick response elicited a corky smile. "Which is?"

The wild blonde, with her tender gaze on the keyboard, let out some hums, and placed her fingers on the black and white keys. The dainty fingers moved like fish in the water, like birds in the wind. Lively, as though the keyboard was where they belonged.

The heavenly sound of piano filled the room as the girl played Landslide, with so much ease. She saw the woman's jaw drop in the corner of her eye, but didn't not stop until the end of the song.

When the last note disappeared into the air, the shorter woman allowed herself to speak. "I didn't know you could play. When did you learn that?"

"I've been playing since I was five."

All these years, the woman had never seen Misty even show the desire to touch the piano. It was always her fingers on the keyboard, and the girl's gaze following them. "How come I never saw you play, then?"

Misty simply shrugged. "I liked your piano."

They shared a brief moment of silence with their eyes locked, and the former teacher felt a bi-colored swirl of flattery and disappointment. The time the wild blonde had chosen to spend for Cordelia's performance instead of her own. And the years that had passed without ever knowing the part of the girl.

But the past cannot be altered, what could've been only stays in the past. Still, the golden wild curls were now within her reach. Her future could be just as bright, could be filled with the melody Misty's fingers created, for her, for them.

"Play some more," the woman said in a whisper, mesmerized by the upturn of her angel's lips.

"Yes, ma'am."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut :)

"You look different." Kyle stated as-a-mater-of-factly to the frizzy blonde.

It had only been half an hour since their shift had started. Both of them had been wrestling with soon-to-be drunkers and hadn't had a chance to even rest their bodies for as second. And as soon as the last wave of guests had subsided, the boy bartender had turned his face to Misty.

"Did something happen?"

While giving her stiff neck a massage, the girl cocked her head. "Something?"

"Like, a good thing. You radiate some aura, like...glowing."

In silence, with the rowdy people around them, Misty wondered when on earth the boy had had a chance to make such an observation. The area around the bar had been so crowded that the wild blonde couldn't have told a goat from an old man.

"Really? I had no idea."

Her nonchalant pretense, though rather impressive, was as ephemeral as one's resolution to quit smoking. She hadn't told anyone about her ghostly queen, but Kyle'd made her realize that the desire for the world to know was flooding and making a glorious lake inside.

"Maybe because now I have a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend?" The boy parroted, his brown eyes wide for a second or two.

Then, his face slowly, but equivocally, turned into a knowing look. Not smug, not obnoxious or raunchy. Misty was like his little sister, although he was the younger one of the two, and he was more than willing to play the reliable big brother.

"What does she look like? Is she gorgeous?"

The wild blonde let out giggles like a teenager who had a crush on someone for the first time. It gave her a ticklish feeling inside to actually let someone know about this sensation. It was indescribable, inexplicable, but something quite pleasant.

"She's hella gorgeous. Kinda looks like the actress that played Marcia Clark on the O.J. Simpson show, y'know?" Except for the hair, obviously, but he'd get the idea.

"Oh, Misty... You lucky bustard!" Kyle screamed under his breath as woman approached the bar.

The woman, who had come for drinks a couple of times already in the last half an hour, ordered another—a strong one that could knock out an elephant. Both of the bartenders watched her stumble, while somehow managing to walk in her stilettoes, back into the crowd. After that, the boy turned to Misty again and gave her a smile flashier than some of the guests' clothes.

"Hey, I got an idea. How 'bout we go for lunch together? I'm dating this girl that I met a couple of months ago. Bring your girlfriend, and I'll bring mine. Four of us can get to know each other."

It was a sweet offer, a delicious opportunity to show off their love to the public. Misty had wondered, from time to time, how it felt to be part of a movie-like experience.

Being on a double-date, introducing her beloved one to her family, and getting the looks of jealousy and admiration. It might not be such a dramatic event, but for the girl who'd lived her life in solitude, it was a significant thing.

But she had to pause and think before answering quickly. It was not just about her, but about Cordelia as well. She didn't want to push the older blonde into anything she didn't want, or make a promise she didn't know if she could keep.

"Hmm. Dunno. I need to ask her," she said, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Hope she'll say yes." Kyle shrugged his shoulders, with nonchalant, but optimistic sparks in his little brown eyes. "I want to know what kind of person she is. You obviously trust her enough to be in a relationship with her."  
  
  
  


"Lunch?" Cordelia repeated what she'd been told a moment ago.

Her fingers combed the feral strands, playing with particularly stubborn curls here and there. She looked down and found the blue-grey orbs of Misty, who had her head resting on the woman's lap.

A keen voice that didn't belong to either of them echoed from the TV in front of them, accompanied by some cheery music. The sun was about to disappear below the horizon, behind the skyscrapers, and the only source of light was the flickering TV screen.

Cordelia didn't mind any of it as she watched the artificial lights fell upon the wild blonde's refined face. The eyes that absorbed the darkness around them, shadows delineating the plump lips, the skin that appeared almost white in the dark. Misty, lying across the couch, looked like a fine piece of art.

The girl wiggled, and repositioned herself. Some of her golden strands fell off the edge of the small couch. "Yeah, Kyle said he'd bring his girlfriend, too."

"Kyle... is your co-worker, right?"

"Yeah?"

Instead of answering to the initial question, the older blonde reached for her phone and started swiping her fingers across the screen. Misty had expected a quick, positive answer, but all she got was silence. She continued to look up at Cordelia, who had an undecipherable expression.

"So, what do you think?" Being a sharp girl she was, Misty might have known the answer already.

"Give me a sec," replied the older blonde. "I need to make sure something."

She felt the girl shift underneath her, and tangled her fingers in the wild mane, caressing her cheek in the process. Her brown eyes shifted from the smartphone to the TV screen, to the girl, and back to the phone again.

After a minute or so, she put the device down, with a little sigh escaping her parted lips. "Yeah, no."

The wild blonde sat up. "No?"

"No. It's Zoe he's dating."

"Oh."

She attempted to suppress the urge to slump her shoulders, not quite succeeding completely. Even if the urge had been hidden impartially, the creases between her brows would've given it away.

"Are you guys not getting along with each other or something?"

"No, no. Everything is fine between us. It's just..." Cordelia searched, in the literal dark, for words and a way to keep the girl's heart intact. "...she's my cousin, and she thinks I'm happily married to Hank."

It took several seconds until it finally dawned on the wild blonde, the implication hidden under the soft touch of the woman's words. "Oh—" the girl let out a single vowel.

Weeks of stolen kisses and innocent embraces had brightened their lives like a fireplace melting away the stiffness of winter. Both of them had, successfully and obtusely, forgotten the snow and the icicles outside of their shelter.

And God knows what would happen to those who disregard or underestimate the power of the harsh weather. The fire was only a temporary solution. There was a huge, mean snow monster out there. Misty hadn't completely forgotten about the legal bounding of the older woman.

Cordelia tucked a strand of wild mane behind the girl's ear. On her finger was no longer the diamond wedding ring; she would only put it back on when Hank was home. But it was a guise that fooled no one, concealed nothing.

And the joke was on her, because every time she touched the ring, the physical proof of her marital status, it would remind her of the brutal fact—she was on the edge of her freedom, a glass wall between her and her feral-haired angel.

"I'm sorry you have to tolerate this," she told Misty. "You wouldn't have to deal with it if you were dating somebody else"

The wild blonde looked up, and found the woman ducking her head in shame.

"I don't want anybody else. I like you, Ok?" She shook her head, suddenly ashamed to have thought she was the only one in pain. "Plus, I'm not such a huge fan of getting-together. I like staying here with you much better," she, in a voice sweetened by pseudo-optimism, reassured Cordelia.

Still, the woman seemed to be determined to keep her gloomy look on, the corners of her lips pulled down, creases in her forehead.

"Hey." Misty scooted closer.

Her ringed fingers traced the outline of Cordelia's face, from the jaw to the protruding cheekbone. The grey agate eyes waited to meet with the chocolate brown ones, patiently, like waiting for a little animal to get closer itself.

The older woman relished the comfortable contrast between the warmth of the girl's hand and the coldness of her accessories against her skin. There was something quite magical in the touch, and through the touch the bewitching force flowed into her veins.

"I love you." She heard Misty whisper.

Then the younger blonde pressed her lips against hers. The way their lips caressed each other was tentative, which, with each intake of breath and beat of a heart, metamorphosed into fervid desperation.

Short on oxygen, Misty pulled away, only giving them a millisecond before throwing her legs on either side of the married blonde's hips. Moans died in their throats, fueling their hearts to beat faster and stronger.

Even with the film on TV, the only thing their ears registered was the sound of their wet kisses. So tangled up in a state of intense lust, the wild blonde didn't realize when her hips started to move of their own accord. But when she did, stopping herself wasn't one of the options.

Cordelia, as she met the movement of the girl's hips with equal zeal, felt her lower belly burn like it had never before. In the dazzling heat, she allowed her mind to briefly wander to her past sexual experiences. There had been some instances of reckless passion, sure, but this immense desire she had right now, the thirst to consume the wild blonde, was such a foreign thing to her. It was like a massive bone fire, lighting up every single nerve of her body.

And she couldn't help but quiver in anticipation, because it was merely a small crackle of fire; more intense heat was waiting to swallow her.

"I want you," Misty breathed out as she rested her forehead against the other's.

With her eyes closed, she felt the older blonde nod.

Hand in hand, they made their way to the bedroom. A single lamp on the nightstand lit their bodies in the dark room, two shadows becoming one on the furnished wall.

They stood by the twin-sized bed as Cordelia wrapped her arms around the wild blonde's body from behind. Dainty fingers found the row of buttons of Misty's shirt, undoing them in a slow way that was full of sensual confidence.

Layer by layer, she undressed the taller woman, planting little kisses on the exposed shoulders, until no piece of cloth, save black underwear, veiled the lithe body. Then, her hand rose and carefully—as though handling delicate feathers—parted the wild curls at the back of her neck.

"You have a freckle right here, did you know?" Cordelia pressed a finger lightly against the sole star at the beginning of the spinal column, before covering it with her lips.

A jolt of electricity of the touch, as it ran straight to her core, made the wild blonde shiver. The gesture was intimate, carnal, and somehow so secretive. Up until then, she had never known desire could be so intense while still keeping such purity in it. Then, she heard Cordelia move behind her.

She found it quite difficult, almost impossible, to turn around. In fact, her nervous were on fire, the sensation too much to even move a finger. Her own breathing was loud in her ears, her heartbeat drumming against her bare chest.

Then there was a soft thud behind, probably Cordelia's top falling to the floor, followed by a zipper sound and another silky thud.

Everything was still for a fraction of a second, the air a little thicker than usual. With her eyes trained on the shadow on the wall, the taller blonde swallowed hard, to cure the dryness of her throat, to alleviate the nerve-wrecking moment.

The chocolate brown eyes roamed over the girl's back. Licking her lips, she absentmindedly took mental pictures of each curve and freckle of her wild blonde. Everyone knows how Venus de Milo looks like from the front, but not so many care enough to look at her rear side. A beautiful sculpture exudes something dangerously alluring, even from the back.

Cordelia was certain, in that moment, nothing in the world was more beautiful than Misty.

The pleasant intoxication escaped her lips as a sigh. She glided her hand across the broad of the pale back, tips of the fingers leaving the faintest touch. Her hand moved like it had its own mind, and the dilated brown eyes followed it in dazzlement. As it found home on a side of the girl's hips, Cordelia took a tiny step forward and closed the gap between them.

Breathy moans tumbled out of their lips when their upper bodies pressed against each other. The shorter woman took a deep breath in the crook of Misty's neck, the raw warmth rising goosebumps. She could feel her hardened nipples rub against the girl's soft skin right below her shoulder blades.

With every kiss on the neck and the shoulders, with every caress, Misty let out a gasp.

After a chaste kiss below her ear, Cordelia whispered: "Lay down."

Following the soft order and lying on her back, the wild blonde studied the naked body that hovered above her. Her eyes, glimmering in indigo with libidinous hunger, locked with the other woman's. The look was predatory, blatantly so. It was a whole new face of the ever-so-sweet woman.

But she could definitely get used to it, the taller blonde was sure.

"Um...Aren't you gonna—like, turn the light off?" Her raspy voice shook as she cast sheepish eye at the lamp.

"Why?" Cordelia raised a brow at the words, an innocent plea under the guise of a rational question. "Do you not want me to look at you? Are you getting shy?"

Before Misty had a chance to react, the older blonde started to slither her finger in the valley between her breasts. Up and down, up and down, but never showing the intention to stray from the path.

"Cordelia..." she let the woman's name on the tip of her tongue.

Had she never in her entire life felt so vulnerable, so exposed, both literally and figuratively. In the moment of bravery, she tangled her fingers in the locks of silky platinum blonde, pulling the woman into a frantic kiss.

Her breath hitched when her sensitive breast finally met the warmth of Cordelia's hand. While kissing her as though to quench the thirst, the woman stroked the peak of Misty's nipple with her fingers. Tenderly at first, and then changing her tactics to kneading and pinching. Her mouth joined the fingers in no time, flicking the tip of her tongue on the other pink nub.

She felt dizzy, inebriated by the way her wild blonde shut her eyes close, and the way she bit her bottom lip. Was she trying to suppress her moans? A fleeting puckish thought came over the older woman, and she sucked on the nipple with a little more vigor. The action gained a desired reaction, and Misty arched her back, small mewls threatening to escape her throat.

The double sensation of her tongue and fingers sent the girl to the realm of the pleasure she'd never known before. The woman's tongue, though her breasts were still very well taken care of, slithered across her body. The collarbones, ribs, navel, and hips. Sucking and nibbling and occasionally—it turned out the younger woman had a liking for a little roughness—biting.

Misty squirmed under the skilled ministration. And dear God—she was on the verge of explosion. The mere thought of the very same tongue between her legs, the source of her throbbing, was enough to melt her on the spot. She squirmed again and again, rubbing her thighs together unconsciously, in serious need of some sort of a relief.

She had lost track of time a long time ago; it felt like more than hours since their clothes had hit the floor. Just the moment she thought she'd gotten used to Cordelia's touch, the woman would do something magical, and the feral-haired girl would go back to the pit of hopelessly immense pleasure.

Giving her lips a brief rest, the older blonde hovered her face over the other's. The wild curls stuck to the girl's neck, moistened by a sheer of sweat. The indigo eyes bored into her eyes, silently but fervently, begging for more.

"My angel," Cordelia murmured, before going back into a kiss. "I love you. I love you so much."

At the same time she slipped her tongue into Misty's little mouth, she lowered her hand, stroking her inner thighs. The girl's hips rocked faster. The raw, honest reaction of her body was starting to be Cordelia's drug. Such a wild addiction to have. Not only did her angel like it rough, but she also seemed to be fond of being on the receiving side of teasing. What an incredible delight to the shorter blonde, who was more than eager to spend an eternity to give it to her. The fact that Misty was usually a serious, rather dominant person only made it even more erotic than it already was.

What more did the girl have that would drive Cordelia insane?—Dirty talk? Bondage, perhaps? But she had to test the water before jumping into any conclusion; this was their first time, this might be even Misty's first time ever with anyone. Reckless sex could wait. It had to wait.

Done with the teasing—for now, Cordelia finally cupped the clothed mound, which provoked the girl to shudder. The core radiated heat, wanton heat, even through the underwear.

Drawing small circles with her thumb, applying the slightest pressure onto the sensitive spot, and running her middle finger along the lower area of the nub. She kissed Misty. She kissed and kissed and kissed, so the wild blonde couldn't bite her lip to stifle her whimpers.

Then, her hand sneaked under the garment, immediately welcomed by the drenched core. Maybe Misty let out a whimper, but the older blonde failed to appreciate the heavenly noise because of her own moan.

After getting the girl properly free of any clothes, Cordelia, at a shameless velocity, brought her hand back to the girl's core. Another sigh escaped her lips as her fingers rather aimlessly collected the wetness. "You're so wet," she whispered in Misty's ear, an emphasis on the last word, knowing this would stir her up even more.

As expected, the younger blonde shut her eyes tightly, with her bottom lip between her teeth. Her lower belly burned and ached. She collected the bed sheets in her fists, to keep herself from burning down to ashes and dust. And then there was a finger slipping inside her, making her mind absolutely blank in the best sort of way. It felt, somehow, much longer than the wild blonde had imagined it to be as it gradually gained its speed.

Misty couldn't stand it. The kisses and teeth on her neck, the little mewls falling out of the woman's mouth, the faintest sound of fluids stirred up and coaxed by a single digit.

She thought, with their past and the suppressed feelings finally able to sparkle, it would be hot and rushed. Instead, it was slow, emotional, and the love that coursed through her veins spilled from the corners of her half-closed eyes.

Her legs began to shake, her hips rolling, back arching. All of her senses were slowly drained by a huge wave of pleasure. It frightened the wild blonde; all her life she'd been investing all she had, to avoid this feeling, this out-of-control-ness. And perhaps she'd already accepted that her emotions had a say in her life, but to lose control of her body—she was still full of insecurities.

She turned her head to the side to hide her face from Cordelia. But little did she know, it was driving the woman even crazier. Misty's coy, but stubborn determination to stay quiet had poured a great amount of gasoline onto the older blonde's ego. And Cordelia doubled her effort to make the girl scream with an unwavering resolve.

"Misty, look at me," she demanded in a decisively carnal voice, her dominance making the girl's inside squeeze around her finger just a little.

But the wild blonde, while continuing to press her cheek hard onto the pillow, moved her head, in a way that could be interpreted as a head shake.

Oh, what a delicious creature she was. It was like every part of her—from her closed eyes to her curled toes—was designed to make Cordelia's head spin.

"Are you saying no to me?" the older woman husked.

As if to say 'challenge accepted', she ran her tongue along the presented jaw, moving up to nibble on her earlobe.

Misty writhed, arched her back, and dug her heels into the bed, wanting to get away from the relentless tongue and wanting more of the sweet torture simultaneously. Then, there was another pressure invading her. Whiteness was starting to spread behind her closed eyelids.

After some thrusting in and out and curling, she heard Cordelia say: "Let go. Come for me."

And that was what Misty did.

Her walls clenched around the insistent fingers, and fireworks lit up her whole system as she spilled over the edge, hard. A long, high-pitched moan escaped her throat and filled the bedroom at last. Her orgasm was strong—the strongest she'd ever experienced. Through her euphoric sobs, she heard the woman hummed in affirmation.

"Good girl." Cordelia flashed a victorious smile.

She stroked the head of the feral curls, while still continuing to massage her walls with her other hand, a little more gently now, to guide her through the powerful orgasm.

"Good girl," she whispered again.

After some more seconds, she pulled her fingers out, and laid beside her.

It would be a lie to say she had never imagined having a sexy moment with her younger blonde. Too many times to count, in fact. But her imagination could have never offer such a magnificent view as her angel before her, spread out, completely spent, the grey eyes staring into space. It was all because of her, and although the wild blonde was still coming back from her high, Cordelia couldn't help the urge to run her hands all over her body again.

Her gaze followed the hand, moving up and down on the girl's side.

In the stillness of the moment, she heard Misty sniffle.

"What's wrong?" The older blonde sat up on her elbows. Mild panic deepened the crease in her forehead when she caught the tear-coated grey eyes.

"I just—the days in the piano room were the happiest moments of my life." The wild blonde sniffled again. "I never imagined I could be happier than that." It was like everything she'd been holding back doubled in amount and met a release with her high.

Their gazes locked, and the intensity of it all opened the faucet of emotions in Cordelia as well.

She leaned in, and pressed her lips against the wild blonde's. She desperately wished there was a better way to convey her feelings, because such physical intimacy and verbal words were a mere cage that limited her adoration.

"I want to touch you," the frizzy blonde confessed after lying on top of the other woman.

Her hands, placed firmly on her ribs, were too hot against the cold skin of Cordelia.

"I want you to touch me." Despite her resolution to stay collected, her hips rolled upwards, aching for attention.

Misty trailed her fingers on the milky, luscious body underneath herself. Her heart was beating fast and her blood rushing through her veins like a bullet train. And perhaps she was strange—felt strange in fact—because she was more nervous to stare at the beauty than when those chocolate brown orbs were looking at every inch of her naked body earlier.

She was nervous, frightened even.

The possibility of her fucking this up was greater than she'd imagined. What if she couldn't give what Cordelia had given her? How was she supposed to please the woman, who knew about pleasure more than the wild blonde herself did? Suddenly Misty found herself wishing to dig a whole somewhere and hide in it.

"Are you ok?" the older woman, with a somewhat calmer heart, asked in a murmur.

"I'm..." The neat brows slightly knotted together. "I've never done this before, and I'm..." _I'm scared._ The word threatened to slip out, but Misty kept it in. "I'm sorry I might not be as good as you, but I swear if I practice a lot—"

"Practice?" Cordelia raised her brows in amusement—amused by the flustered state of her feral-haired angel, amused by her blindness to how desperate the woman was for the 'practice'.

The implication of her own words drew blood to Misty's entire face, even spreading to her neck.

"No, I only meant— I didn't say that to— that's not what I really—"

"Well, why don't you let the first practice session begin?" Cordelia threw her hands above her head, completely submitting herself to whatever was to come (beside herself, of course).

Her core was throbbing, even more so after seducing and successfully melting the wild blonde to a puddle of goo.

When Misty, with remnants of hesitation on her fingertips, began to shift her attention to her lower body, she smirked again.

"And you know, there's no rule that says you can only practice once a day."

Swallowing hard, Misty bit her bottom to keep her whimper at bay. The radiating dominance of the woman beneath her caused a dull ache between her legs to return.

Her hands ghosted over the other's clothed hips, trailing the edge of the fair underwear.

"Take 'em off?" Cordelia pleaded, the wetness under them getting more agonizing and uncomfortable by the second.

The undergarment slowly came off, and the younger blonde was pleased to find the glistening center there. She hadn't touched Cordelia yet, which only indicated that the woman had been creaming her panties already when her fingers were buried deep inside Misty.

"Holy shit." Her jaw dropped.

"Mmm...is something the matter?"

The indigo eyes traveled back to the pair of brown jewels. "No—you're just too darn beautiful."

The sincerity and giddiness on the wild blonde's face made Cordelia's heart flatter. A single quiet giggle fell out of her mouth, a provocative smirk coloring her lips.

"You say that after seeing me down there."

The younger woman felt incredible heat creep up her neck at the remark. But, wait and see, because once her fingers touched the naked body, she'd be the one teasing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some remaining smut from the last chapter at the beginning...

_If I maintain my silence about my secret it is my prisoner...if I let it slip from my tongue, I am ITS prisoner."_

_**―** _ _**Arthur Schopenhauer** _

A couple of weeks had passed since the first day of physical intimacy.

As Cordelia had suggested, she had helped the wild blonde with her 'practice,' sometimes sacrificing her whole days. The woman was an excellent teacher, which wasn't a surprise at all given her previous job. And the wild blonde, a straight-A medical student, was also a vigorous, quick learner.

Things had taken the same route as usual today; as soon as the younger blonde had come back from school, all of her clothes hit the floor at the speed of light, and she joined the other woman in bed. Neither of them knew how long they'd been making love with each other.

The sky was dark, raindrops falling and hitting every surface of earth, their bodies too warm to be affected by the weather.

Cordelia squirmed with her head thrown back in the pillow. Her hips canted of their own accord as she gripped the bedsheets like her life depended on them. The force was so strong it was turning her knuckles white. The walls of the bedroom absorbed innumerous inhibited moans and whimpers.

"Ahh...fuck—oh, fuck...Mist—" Whatever she was about to say, it was cut off by another moan of her own.

Misty's tongue and fingers were unapologetically relentless. The ghost of self-doubt she'd had during the first session was long gone. With determined precision, her slender fingers pinched, caressed, and rolled the hardened nipples of the other woman.

She let out hums between Cordelia's trembling thighs, the tip of her tongue carefully, yet confidently running through the drenched folds, making countless trips between there and the engorged jewel that pulsated just right above.

After drawing some more circles, Misty noted a change in the woman's breathing; her bare chest was heaving erratically, and the moans were getting more and more frequent and incoherent.

"Baby..." the shorter blonde sighed out, and the girl knew it was her way of begging for release.

Locking her thighs in place with her arms wrapped around them, Misty doubled her effort, itching to see the woman lose her control. Soon, the room was filled with loud moans for several seconds, and then, suddenly fell silent.

The wild blonde crawled back to lay down beside a light-headed Cordelia, who seemed to be having trouble breathing evenly.

"Jeez, I swear you're getting better and better at this each time," the older blonde let out an amused laugh.

A huge grin spread across Misty's face. "You let me practice a lot."

"Mm hmm, _but_...there's just one thing..."

The proud grin of the girl dropped, and the look of an innocent puppy made Cordelia flash a bright smile.

"It's just—if you could try _not_ to keep quiet when I go down on you..." The sentence ended with giggles, pulled out of her mouth by the crimson cheeks of the girl.

The mortified girl bit on her bottom lip, in the exact same manner she did when attempting to hold her moans in. As she buried her hot face in the pillow, she let out a groan.

"But I sound so weird. I just sound like an awkward duck, or worse, a possessed goat."

"No, you don't, baby." With a huge grin plastered across her radiant face, Cordelia pulled the wild blonde into a blithe embrace. "You sound so hot. And it makes me feel dizzy. Take it from me, really, because I've never heard anything hotter."

Misty continued to groan and groan, but Cordelia's rain of chaste kisses on her cheeks and nose turned the sound gradually into chuckles. The mattress creaked under the tangled limbs of the two of them, as though it was a musical instrument matching to the rhythm of their twitters.

"I love you, as much of a tease as you are sometimes," the younger woman said, after giving Cordelia a playful peck on the lips. "Do you love me, too?"

The innocent question was answered with a teasing gaze. "No, not really."

The woman tilted her head to the side, her cheek resting on her palm. Puckish giggles tumbled out of her mouth, brutally tearing down the aloof façade.

"Of course I do, you goof. To the moon and back and several more round trips."

While giggles still tickling their throats, they drowned in each other's eyes, quickly and immensely. Their magic ran through the ocean in them, and it certainly was the best way to drown themselves. Misty felt the butterflies in her stomach fly around, no less wildly than when they first met.

In fact, the flattering feelings only seemed to grow inside her heart day by day. Every second and intake of breath only nourished the things between them even more, and this was how the girl learned that love was not consumable or exhaustible.

Love was like the ocean; it knew no limits, no boundaries.

Lying together, they enjoyed doing nothing but listening to the quietness, relishing the faint heartbeat against their palms. Cordelia—as it had become one of her favorite activities—played with the feral curls, abandoning them from time to time to feel the warmth of her angel's skin.

But the tranquility was interrupted by an electric noise of Cordelia's phone. She rolled over and checked the incoming text message, a choice she immediately regretted making. Her brown eyes gawked at the name of her husband.

The younger blonde held her from behind, and the woman, in a flash, felt those grey agate eyes on the bright screen.

 _Shit_.

By the time the woman put the device back down, Misty had already rolled over back to the other side of the bed. The gap between them wasn't so significant due to the small size of the bed, yet Cordelia found it rather difficult to cross the invisible lone.

Pressing her lips to Misty's shoulder, she let out a sigh. "He's coming back tomorrow."

The wild blonde gave no response but a heavy nod. Both of them were aware of the implications of this; Hank would come home, and he'd probably do what a husband does to his wife after a weeks-long business trip.

And like it or not, Misty would have to sit in her little blemished apartment, alone, until the married woman came back to her.

"You know what?" Cordelia tried to lighten the air. "We can dress up tonight, and go have dinner at the French restaurant we found the other day. Maybe I'll take you to a bar after that. And I'll get you home and we say goodnight. Like a date."

But Misty just shook her head. "I want to stay in." And she fell silent again.

Verbal communication wasn't one of her fortes, but she tended to be even quieter when the topic of the fox man was brought up.

It didn't mean she didn't appreciate Cordelia's little gestures. The woman was genuinely one of the kindest people he girl had ever met, and as if she could read people's mind, she was always quick to pick up the slightest change in Misty's emotions. When the girl was anxious and exhausted because of exams, she'd bring her a box of chocolate from a famous store. After such exams or big events, she'd take the wild blonde to a bar on top of a skyscraper.

And perhaps—because the woman had insisted taking her out so many times—Misty had become fond of the nights at sumptuous restaurants, too. Although the texture of designer's dresses and the admiring stares of passerby continued to be such an alien sensation, they were never unpleasant.

Still, those things came from the money Cordelia's husband earned. Every penny the older blonde spent for her, Misty had to try and remind herself of the purity of their relationship. Cordelia wasn't her sugar mom. No. And it was just a ruthless reality that without the plastic card carrying millions of dollars, they were most likely to be staying in the small apartment all the time.

There was no doubt about the love between them, though. The married woman would tell her how in love she was with the wild blonde, that she was head over heels for her. But every once in a while, especially when the shadow of the fox man came back into their lives, Misty couldn't help but wonder why the other woman wouldn't leave him.

Did she think she wasn't loveable without the money to spoil the younger blonde? Or was there another reason Misty was blind to?

"I love you," the girl said.

Then, she pulled the woman into a tight embrace, before kissing every inch of her, hoping that some parts would be left untouched by the mean fox.  
  
  
  


The heavy metal door of the elevator to the mansion opened. The sole ding that indicated the arrival of the metal box was cheerful, much to the annoyance of Hank Foxx. His steps were as heavy as the suitcase that followed him as he gave the blank living room a begrudging stare.

After a long period of time spent away from this place he called his castle, nothing seemed welcoming here. The flower vase without any flowers in it, the sink that was sickeningly clean, the floor that had not a single pixel of dirt or dust, and the woman who sat at the table with a faked smile on.

Nothing was welcoming, and everything was usual that way.

Cordelia stood up from her chair and walked towards him, each step screaming in reluctance.

"How was Russia?" she asked him. Her makeup was flawless, her sundress complimenting her figure; she'd spent extra time to look like that, to dress like that, so the man's gun of criticism wouldn't point at her.

"Terrible. It never went higher than minus 10 degrees. There were no legitimate restaurants in the rural areas. The worst trip ever."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Her reply was evidently half-hearted.

Instead of commenting on the indifferent response, Hank dragged his feet toward the couch.

Throwing his body onto it like a tyrant in his throne, he ran his eyes over the woman. His gaze was predatory and trenchant, as if he was estimating her 'value'.

"Change into something more provocative. I am told to join the CEO of the Holzmann's for dinner tonight."

"Now?" Cordelia knitted her brows.

"Yeah. We are leaving in 20 minutes." Without giving the woman any opportunities to protest, the brunet man strolled to their bedroom.  
  
  
  


The restaurant the friend of Hank's had chosen was located only ten minutes away from their mansion. Adorned with gold and a grand chandelier, the place was considered to be one of the most lavish restaurants in the city.

The tables were fully, and constantly booked for the next twelve months, which, to no one's surprise, was not an issue for Hank Foxx. No matter how impossible things seemed to be to others, he'd make it happen with his fame and power. That was his way, always.

And at the table in the center of the grand place, he sat, with a thick beard around a pretentious smile.

"Mrs. Foxx, you look utterly charming tonight," Anthony Holzmann said. "I envy your husband. He can come back to this every night. What more do you need in life, huh?" A string of cackles, which could only described as profane, sprung out of his mouth.

Now, this middle-aged white man of German descent was notorious for his vulgarity, Cordelia would learn later. As nasty as this remark was, it was nothing compared to his usual speeches.

In spite of his sophisticated appearance, a vast majority of what he spoke was of a sexual nature. The way his eyes lingered on the exhibited cleavage of Cordelia was unfaltering and unapologetic, and this was how she understood why Hank had earlier ordered her to be in provocative clothes.

The blonde woman hid nauseating disgust under a mask of obedience. Forcing the corners of her lips upwards, she mumbled a quiet thank you, a proper way of responding to the 'compliment'.

And, to her further repugnance, she felt Hank take her hand under the table, before putting their connected hands on it. For display, because she was his property to show off, because she was one of his trophies that embellished his success.

"I'm the luckiest man on earth, or even in the whole galaxy." His sickeningly white teeth shone as his grip on Cordelia's hand never faltered.

"So—" Holtzmann sat deep in his seat, with a glass of red wine in his hand. "How was your recent trip to the freezing country? I know it's such a horrid place. Believe me I've been there several times before when I was young. But don't you agree that the women are exquisite? I don't mean to make you burn with envy," his hazel eyes momentarily shifted to Cordelia, cocking an eyebrow at her. "...but you can't find anything like those women in the United States."

"Yes, they are extraordinarily beautiful women. And please, there's no need to worry about her." Hank told the other man, then cast an arrogant glance at his trophy of a wife. "She's more understanding than any women I've ever been with."

Playing the role of a submissive wife, Cordelia would have to sit with them for the next two hours.  
  
  
  


The next morning, the blonde woman was woken up by the rustling sound outside the bedroom. Footsteps and some murmurs, followed by more angry footsteps.

The blankets pooled around her bare hip as she sat up. Even though her eyes were open, she still felt like she was dreaming, felt like her body floated in the water. And the short-lived moment of disorientation was heaven, because as her head became clearer, she became aware of the presence of the man in the house.

The man she called her husband, the man with whom she'd shared a bed last night

She walked into the bathroom with heavy steps, directly going into the shower. With the monotonous sound of water hitting the floor, her empty stare was fixated on one spot in the tiled wall.

She scrubbed every inch of her body, almost obsessively, as though to wash away any residual radiation, paying extra attention to the area between her legs.

When she got out of the shower after half an hour, she found Hank in the living room doing God-knows-what on his phone. Although it was still before noon, his attire was prim and seemed to have no flaws. He looked like perfection, while Cordelia was standing there with water dripping from the tip of her hair.

And it reminded her why she'd fallen for that psychopathic young entrepreneur; she liked the remorseless confidence that radiated in his attitude. It hadn't taken much time, though, until the woman discovered the dark side of the man. His confidence and psychopathic tendencies were two sides of the same coin.

"Hey." He didn't even bother to glance at her. "I'm having branch with the Kijek brothers. You can come with me if you want."

Was he talking to her or his phone? It would've irritated Cordelia if any other person had acted the way he did, yet she was actually relieved, glad even, to know she wouldn't have to spend time with him. As ephemeral as it might be, the prospect of some time away from him made her feel like a bird released from her prison.

"No. Don't worry about me," she said as nonchalantly as possible.

"How are you spending your time anyway? Do you even have friends?"

"I have someone I'm really close to."

At that, he finally looked up from his phone. "Is that a guy?" he questioned. So typical of him, always quick to smell out a potential threat to his territory.

"It's a she," Cordelia answered. "She used to be my student."

As his poise visibly got less tense, he shifted his attention back to elsewhere. Apparently that was all he needed to know, and the rest of what the woman said was irrelevant.

"Oh, right. You were a teacher." His voice had a hint of poisonous mockery. "I'm surprised anyone actually liked you as a teacher."

The words made Cordelia's jaw clench, her fists tighten. Humiliation after humiliation, this man took great pleasure in ridiculing everything she had; her past, her future, and her present.

Although she once turned on her heels, it soon became impossible to contain the storm inside her any longer.

Striding back to the room, the blonde woman spoke up, with bare teeth. "What if it was a guy?"

"Huh?" The uncharacteristic outburst of her forced him to look at her with wide eyes, somewhat alarmed, but not so much.

"If that old student was a boy, what would you do?"

"Is it a guy?"

"No," Cordelia almost yelled. "But what would you do if it was?"

"I'd say, are you two fucking?"

"And why wouldn't you ask the same question if it was a girl?"

A brief moment of silence filled the air between them, before he said: "Are you fucking her?"

There was only one answer; lying in fear right here meant lying to her own heart and to her relationship with Misty.

"And what if I was? What if I said I even love her?"


	8. Chapter 8

_"_ _The truth about forever is that it is happening right now."_

_**―** _ _**Sarah Dessen, The truth about forever** _

Misty was studying in the school library when her phone vibrated, with the name of the older woman on the lit-up screen.

Since the woman had gone back to her home, in order to spend time with her husband, they had only been talking via text message. In their phones were piles of 'I miss you's and 'I love you's.

And having spent only two days away from the other, the wild blond, the rational part of her, knew it was insane to miss the other this much. A couple of days of separation were nothing, much shorter and less unbearable than when her hectic school work kept them away sometimes.

Yet, the presence of the Hank guy was adding an unnecessarily great amount of apprehension to Misty's patience.

_**Are you in class?** _

The text was brief.

_no. studying in the library._

_**Could you possibly come back briefly and let me into your apartment?** _

Something about this message was strange; usually, when Misty had some important school thing to take care of, the other woman would never try and distract her from it.

_on my way right now_

Gathering all of her belongings and shoving them into her backpack, she stormed out of the place. A few people lifted their gaze from their books and notebooks and gave her suspicious looks, but the girl couldn't give half a crap.

The school was only about five minutes away from her apartment, which turned out to be a big advantage for her that moment. When she'd first started living there, she hadn't been such a great fan of the little shabby place.

The neighborhood was rather sketchy. To say the residents were unfriendly was an understatement. And even though a large portion of her views hadn't changed after several years, the wild blonde found herself praising her past self for prioritizing convenience over anything else.

Because now Cordelia was waiting for her, and Misty didn't have to condemn herself for not running fast enough.

She ran up the stairs—one of the light bulbs was dying—, and found the older woman standing in the dusky corridor. As she took a deep breath for air, her eyes caught a bag, too large for a picnic, at Cordelia's feet.

"What's going on?" The younger woman asked before anything else.

As she got closer, the creases between her brows deepened. The woman's golden hair was wet like she'd just showered, and her face was free of makeup. Misty knew how the older blonde had conflicting feelings toward walking outside without makeup.

"Is everything ok?"

Cordelia put on a rather stiff smile, apologetic for and relieved at the other's return. "Yeah, everything's fine."

The sound of her stilettoes echoed in the corridor momentarily as she followed the wild blonde into the apartment.

The weight of her bag was great, the strap digging into her shoulder. It had clothes, cosmetics, her favorite books, and some other stuff she had been able to put in before storming out of her house.

With a heavy thud, Cordelia let it fall onto the couch and sat beside the chunk of her belongings. A sigh escaped her mouth as she finally allowed herself to relax.

Lifting her exhausted gaze, she found Misty, who fidgeted in what appeared to be concern and hesitation, standing a couple feet away from her. It was as though the woman was a wounded animal, and the girl didn't know how to treat the injury.

The naiveté in the wide, blue eyes was such a familiar thing to Cordelia. And for a fraction of a moment, she saw the 17-year-old wild blonde before her, the girl who was timid, but had such a strong ache to get close to her.

Despite the situation, the sight drew a small, but genuine smile out of the former teacher.

Shaking her head and shrugging, she answered to the girl's unspoken question. "I just got kicked out of my house."

"Why? What happened?" The answer blew Misty's hesitation away. She walked to the couch and knelt down before the older woman, trying to look into her face.

"I told him about you. Told him that I had always been in love with someone else."

It left the girl speechless for a brief moment. Having seeing the unusually huge luggage, it wasn't particularly a challenge to guess Cordelia wasn't planning to go back to her house anytime soon.

Yet, Misty couldn't possibly have expected to hear something like this. The surprise was pleasant, though, and it made her feel like she'd found a treasure box inside a dark cave.

"Did he hurt you?"

The wild blonde had to remind herself that it must be such a stressful time for the woman. Regardless of whether the change is good or bad, it is always a painful experience to come to term with and adapt to it, especially when it involves separation.

"Only a slap on the cheek. I probably deserved it anyway." Cordelia nonchalantly shrugged.

The younger blonde felt her blood boil. "No, no one deserves to be treated like that."

With a grimace, she gently put her cold hand on Cordelia's slightly red cheek. The idea of a person abusing others is outrageous, but hurting Cordelia? Hank Foxx should pray to every God that he didn't believe in, that he'd never come across the wild blonde again, ever.

"I wish I'd been there. I would've kicked his balls."

Giggles tumbled out of the lips of the older blonde, who relished the coldness of her hand. "I know you would have."

"You can stay here, ok?" Misty told her, feeling extra protective. "I was gonna give you my key anyway. You don't have to look for another place. We can live together."

As soon as those words left her lips, she blushed. To someone who just had gotten kicked out of the house by her spouse, it might be too strong a push. Not a single word of her was tainted with insincerity, but perhaps it was precisely what made the suggestion even more desperate.

"...if you want to, that is," she added quickly.

"Are you proposing to me?" Her sweet chocolate brown eyes crinkled up as they bored into the blue spheres.

The younger woman felt her entire face burn. "No, no, no." She shook her head of feral curls, quite furiously like a possessed bobblehead doll. "No," she repeated.

No other words or sounds could seem to come out of her mouth, and Cordelia found it such a heart-swelling thing to feast her eyes on.

"No?" The woman tilted her head, sort of in a way that a person talks to a child.

Misty bit on her bottom lip, with a pounding heart inside her chest. Suddenly feeling bashful, she glanced aside.

"No. 'Cause it would look like I did it on the spur of the moment." Though her cheeks were still on fire, her voice was never faltering. "Plus, it's so soon, isn't it? We've only been dating for 4 months...though I've loved you for like 10 times as long." The last sentence was a murmur, and she wasn't sure if it reached the older blonde's ears.

"I wouldn't mind if it was."

There followed a silence. Neither of them knew what came over the woman; something in the way the wild blonde spoke had made her brave, made her feel a bit bold.

As daring as it was, Misty knew it was never meant to be a mere teasing joke. There was sincerity, warmth, and expectation for the girl's assent, woven into every thread of the spoken words.

But after looking into the brown eyes, she shook her head, for the last time. "No. It's not a proposal," she said. "I don't—I don't want our engagement story to be like this. I don't even have a legit ring to give you. But I promise, when I become a doctor, I will buy you a big ring. A 10-carat diamond! I don't know how big it is, but I will get you that."

Cordelia couldn't resist the smile that was oozing from inside her. A 10-carat diamond is as big as a dime and could buy not only one but two air crafts. If the girl didn't know how big it was, the chances were that she didn't know the price, either. And it was just so endearing, even if it was like a reckless promise that young sweethearts make without any doubt about their future.

"...And I will buy us a house by the ocean and we will watch the sunset together every day," Misty said. "I don't know how long it'll take, but I will give them to you. So um," she took a pause. "...wait for me to be a full adult?"

The sentence ended much like a question, and the younger blonde cursed her own existence for not being able to finish her speech with grace.

Cordelia let out giggles at the frowning girl. She was overwhelmed. The girl remembered what she'd only mentioned once, that she wanted to live near the beach in the future.

And this was the moment she realized her feral-haired angel, who could be as dorky as she could be sometimes, probably remembered every single small thing Cordelia had ever said to her.

"Ok, I'll wait. 10 years, 20 years, I'll keep waiting."

"I really hope it wouldn't take that long," Misty said.

The woman gave her a lip-biting smile. Bright like the sunlight that once sneaked through a slightly opened curtain in the piano room, the place where everything had started.

"But can I ask one thing now?" she said.

"Yeah?" The wild blonde raised her brows.

"Dance with me. I don't think I can wait until our wedding."

The wild blonde, feeling her heart swell, stood up and took out her phone. The sweet melody of Landslide, their beloved song, resonated in the apartment as she turned the volume up to the highest level.

It wasn't exactly the ideal quality if anyone asked. Misty didn't even own a satisfactory speaker system. But it was not a minus, but another thing to be added on her ambitious To-do list, along with buying Cordelia a ring and a house.

After moving the coffee table for more room, Misty held out a hand to the other woman.

The fading sunlight brightened the apartment, and the little pieces of the brilliance sparkled in the feral curls. It was like a halo. Misty Day looked like a real angel. And Cordelia gulped at the breathtaking sight as she took the offered hand.

And slowly, silently, tenderly, and yet ardently, they danced, which probably was due when they first fell in love.

**_~END~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appreciate all your comments :) another work is coming soon


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